I Have a Bad Feeling About This
by Bamfbugboy
Summary: It starts with a few simple tasks. She did not expect for it to turn into anything, certainly not anything related to that silly war between the Separatists and the Republic. But that changed for a nobody-mechanic when she met Obi-wan Kenobi. ObixOC
1. Chapter One

_**Author's Note**__: I have recently become very obsessed with this fandom, and I cannot get enough of Star Wars. I've been mulling over this idea for awhile. It is the first time that I will be lurking about in this fandom as an author, so I apologize for mistakes ahead of time. This starts in Episode II, the Clone Wars. I will be working in this fandom for awhile, especially since SW:tOR is coming out. Thanks for clicking, hope you enjoy! Any advice / extra information would be greatly appreciated. Looking for a Beta as well.  
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_**Summary**__: It starts with one task. She did not expect for it to turn into anything, certainly not anything related to that silly war between the Separatists and the Republic. But that changed for a nobody-mechanic. The first task: fixing Obi-Wan Kenobi's speeder. The second task: joining the Intergalactic Army of the Republic. The third task: mending Obi-Wan's heart. The fourth task: learning that you cannot always fix everything, because some things cannot be changed._

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own anything related to Star Wars. I own my OC, so that's about it._

_**Edit**: Corrected grammar / typos.  
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><p>I Have a Bad Feeling about This<p>

Chapter One

**23BBY, Coruscant**

Claire Elrin quickly hopped over the side of the taxi airspeeder upon arriving at one of the many clubs inside of Coruscant's club district. She checked the sign before paying the driver. It read: _Outlander Club_. It was the right place. She paid the driver, flashed one of her better smiles, and then started to walk towards the entrance. There was little hassle getting inside of the club, besides having to yell over the loud, almost obnoxiously loud, music that penetrated beyond the club's walls and filled the air outside. The bouncer checked her identification, and then allowed her to enter.

Of course, that was after he glanced at her body up and down once or twice. Claire ignored this by lowering her eyes and entering the club without any spoken words. Deep down she wanted to slap the bouncer, but she also did not want to kicked out without having even stepped foot inside of the club itself. A necessary evil, was not scantily dressed, at least by clubbing standards. She was wearing her auburn hair up in a high tail, and was wearing a simple, if not slightly tight, strapless black dress that came to above her knee. She immediately bolted to the bar and ordered a drink, her standard _Star-Lovers, _which was mildly alcoholic. The club was very busy, as Coruscant's Underworld always was, and once again she needed to yell over the music in order to place her order.

When the drink was placed in front of her, she smiled again, paid the bartender, and then swiveled her body around in order to look at the bar's inhabitants. Some people were dancing, others smoking, some gambling, some conducting illegal behaviors, and others, well they were people-watching much like herself. She took a casual sip of her electric-blue colored drink. A small frown appeared on her face.

"Why do I even come to these clubs," she asked herself quietly, with a disappointed sigh.

Claire did not expect the man sitting next to her, or rather anyone at all, to overhear her comment. It especially startled her when he himself made a comment as well.

"I myself have been trying to figure that one out for quite some time. If you happen to make any progress, you should publish your findings." He added a polite chuckle.

She turned her head and looked at the man to her right. The first thought that entered her mind was the fact that he was dressed inappropriately for a club. He was wearing a beige colored tunic and matching pants, each equally on the tattered spectrum, brown leather boots, and brown robes, with his hood down. What caught her eye the most was the mostly concealed weapon sheathed at his hip: a lightsaber's hilt. Quickly she lifted her gaze back up to his eyes, with the hope that he had not caught her staring.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Claire had not noticed that he was still talking.

"I was telling you why I come to these clubs."

"Oh." She then took another gulp of her drink and then placed it on the counter. "I sometimes lose track of my sense of hearing in these clubs. The music is so loud. By the end of the evening my throat is swollen because I have yelled so much."

The man's grin told her that he must have experienced similar troubles.

"And yet we keep coming here. Or well, I am assuming that you actually do frequent these clubs, from your original statement."

"Well, yes, I suppose I do −" She paused, in order to grab her drink again and stand up. "But most of the time I grab my drink and wait for a booth to open up. Do you mind? I would rather not have to deal with the discomfort of a sore throat tomorrow morning, I have work."

The man politely nodded, pulled his hood over his head, and followed her to the freshly opened booth that she mentioned. They sat across from one another. A rush of relief fell upon Claire's shoulders. She offered the man a comfortable smile. The booth was away from the speakers, so it was much easier to hear company.

"Thank you, I prefer to be able to hear what other people are saying."

"I agree. Can put a damper on a conversation if it's one-sided."

"You know it. I have had plenty of those before." She chuckled briefly, looked at her half empty glass, and then looked back up at him. "Anyways, I come here sometimes with my friends. Unfortunately, they could not get the evening off. The demand for a mechanic seems to have increased exponentially with all of the conflict in the galaxy right now. But I've worked for the past few evenings, so I was given the evening off. Coming to a club is better than being cramped in my apartment, possibly buried under equipment, as I work on my own projects."

"I see. Are you a mechanic yourself?" The man across from her grinned at her comment and then took a drink from his own glass after asking.

Claire nodded, and with a sheepish grin stated, "Yes, I am. Greasy, oily, and sweaty mechanic by day, reluctant clubber by night."

The man smiled at her joke and then asked, "What kind of mechanic? Do you work on droids, speeders, star-ships?"

"Mainly droids and speeders. I have a few friends who work on the bigger cruisers and military vehicles, but I prefer to not get caught in those work schedules. I have a decent grasp on medical technology, too."

"Is that so? Do you work at a local shop?"

"Yes and no. I do work at one of the local technician shops, but most of my work is commission. Thankfully, the demand for a mechanic who works on those vehicles has increased significantly. Sometimes I'm in a hangar, sometimes I'm just working in my own apartment. It varies, you see. My friends who work on the big stuff have really rough schedules. I would rather not become trapped in the lengthy and late work hours. Instead, I fix up the droids who become broken by a stray blaster shot, for example, and your average traveling speeder. Yet, I suppose if it were my only option, I guess I would be fixing star-ships as well."

He nodded. "I have a friend who could probably relate. He finds machinery to be an enjoyable hobby. He can build and use what he makes. He made his own assistant droid. He knows how to fix ships and he flies them very well."

"Is that so? Your friend and I would probably get along very well." She paused briefly, and before she knew what she was entirely saying, Claire blurted out, "Is he a jedi, too?"

The man was taking a drink as she asked this. He dropped his glass to the table immediately, mid-swig, and then narrowed his auburn brows for a few moments. She kept his gaze, and waited for him to either storm off or answer her question. She was thankful to see that he was not leaving.

He leaned over the table and answered in a quieter voice, "Yes, he is. He is my _padawan_, actually."

"Oh, really? That's an apprentice, right?"

"Yes." He replied simply.

After a few minutes of silence and awkward drinking in order to fill that silence, she looked up, catching his eyes again after suddenly feeling like she was being intensively watched.

"I apologize, I had not meant to pry. I saw the hilt. I blurted the question out before I even knew what I had asked."

His shoulders loosened after her apology, and he offered a smile again. "Perhaps it's fair. After all, I asked you about your interests for coming here. We're even, how's that?"

"That's fine with me, uhh..."

"Obi-wan." He interrupted her, "Obi-wan Kenobi." Another polite smile.

Promptly, she replied, "Claire Elrin."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Elrin."

She could not help but faintly flush, and she hoped that in the dim light he would not be able to notice. Her eyes lowered away from his, falling back upon her now finished drink. He lowered his hood again, and ran a hand through his hair. Awkward silence fell upon them again (or as awkward as awkward silence can be in a loud club). Soon she gained the courage to end the silence between them.

"So you never told me why you choose to come to clubs then. Or well, I guess you did, but I was deaf from the music before. I told you my reason: to get out of my apartment. What about you?"

"Frankly and quite honestly, to get away from my reckless padawan."

Claire laughed, and she hoped it was meant to be taken lightly. "Is that so? He's a handful, then?"

"Unfortunately, he can be. He is very ambitious. I suppose most padawans are. It is a crucial time for them. The time where they are gaining experience, and are training under a master, with the ever looming dream of becoming a jedi-knight. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but you could say that my padawan is very eager. Perhaps a little too eager."

"So a drink helps take the edge off after a day of working with him?"

A faint grin spread across his face and he nodded in agreement.

"Now you are making it sound like it's a bad thing."

"No, no, of course it isn't. What exactly are you drinking, anyways? I have never seen a drink of that color served here."

"I can't remember what it's called. Whenever I come here, I always tell the bartender for just the usual. It's probably ardees."

"So you must frequent this club often?"

Obi-wan's grin grew slightly. "No, unless you consider frequent to be several months apart, then no I do not frequent this club often. Not enough to have ever seen you here before with your friends, either. I am usually away from Coruscant for extended periods of time. This is a rare occasion, actually, so I try to make the best of it." She nodded, but he continued, "And I am thankful to admit that the company this time around isn't too bad."

"Too bad? I am wonderful company."

"She seems to have a bit of an ego, though." Another sly grin.

"A bit of one? You haven't got me started."

They both laughed. Silence fell between the two of them again, though this time it lacked the awkwardness of the last two bouts of silence. Claire took this opportunity to make sideways glances at Obi-wan. As she had expected, he was a mixture of tired stoicism and tranquility. His eyes were a cross between blue or grey, she could not pick which color they were, and his auburn hair was kept short and well-groomed. She admitted to herself that his scruffy, if not partially rugged-looking facial hair were highly attractive. The thought itself made her cheeks experience a rush of sensation again.

"So what kind of projects do you work on? I mean personal ones, like you mentioned."

"Like your friend, I'm working on building an assistant droid. I know I could purchase one, but I have made my own specialized schematics, and would prefer the finished droid to have more features than what the purchasable ones offer."

"Well what kind of tasks are you requesting that it do?"

"Cleaning, mainly. My apartment, I hate to admit, can become very disorganized quickly. I would also like to program it to be able to help me fix other mechanical issues as well at work. It would make me a more efficient worker if there were four appendages working on a speeder, for example, than just two. Two of which are fleshy, and easily can become ineffective if wounded by said sharp machinery."

"Those are reasonable tasks, I do not doubt that you could build a droid that meets those requests."

"Plus, I do not trust salesmen like I don't trust any of these politicians, either."

"Oh? Is that so?" Obi-wan's grin seemed to illustrate how he himself knew what she was talking about to a great extent. "I do not trust either as well."

"There aren't any trustworthy bones in their bodies, frankly. I have seen some of the materials these droids that these so called 'experts' sell. They are the mostly cheap and weak materials, the worst you could find. If one looks hard enough, they can find better materials for the same price elsewhere. Even most junkyards have better materials than the stuff that these 'fancier' droids are made out of."

"And of the politicians?"

Claire hesitated before answering his question. "I don't know. It always seems like there's another agenda. Like they are not looking out for the people's interests. I am sure some of them are, I would surely hope some of them are, but every time I turn on the HoloNET and check up on the latest news about the conflict between the Separatists and the Republic, I always become a bit disheartened." She paused and shrugged. "But what do I know. I work in a hangar or a garage all day. I'm not an expert on politics."

"I happen to know a few politicians. I can assure you that a few of them truly do care about their people."

"That's wonderful to hear." She hoped her smile appeared as genuine as she meant for it to be.

She did not expect for him to make any more comments on the subject, but Claire was surprised to see him thinking on it still, and finally he spoke up again. "If you will permit me to casually discuss the topic," he paused and Claire eagerly nodded, "then I can at least tell you that whatever happens, know that there will always be those who look out for the interests of the many. I for one have a duty to the Republic, its people, and the Code that I follow. These things give me strength, much like the Force does, and I will always stand by them."

He sounded honorable. Yet as Claire watched him speak, she saw the sudden mixture of exhaustion and sincerity. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly. When she reopened her eyes a few minutes later, she caught his glance again, and it pleased her to see that he appeared much more relaxed than before. Claire wondered if she should say something, but she simply smiled again, and turned her head in order to look out at the crowd.

"Do jedi dance?" She asked, a little nonchalantly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and saw that his hands were now folded together on the table beside his glass.

"Do mechanics dance?"

"I asked first," she stated with a sly smile.

"Unwillingly, most of the time. Usually a few jedi representatives go to the political fundraisers and benefits. We do not mingle, but observe. Keep the peace."

"Understandable, but also unfortunate. Do you not enjoy dancing?"

"I don't exactly hate it, I simply prefer keeping to myself at those benefits. My padawan enjoys them more than I do," he said with a half-hearted laugh. Obi-wan reached up and ran a hand through his hair, and Claire found herself laughing with him. She found him to be very pleasant company, both in conversation and he was pretty easy on the eyes. "Do you?"

"I suppose if I were asked to dance, I would not entirely turn it down, out of politeness."

"I see." He took the hint, and it made her pleasantly happy. He stood up from the booth and looked at her, with one hand outstretched and the other akimbo. "I would be greatly honored if you would bear the pain of dancing with me."

"It's a pain I will begrudgingly share with you," he stated, while trying hard not to laugh. She took his offered hand and he pulled her away from the club area. She led him to one of the openings in the building, where there was a small, semi-secluded balcony that was thankfully far away enough from the loud speakers, the noise, and the crowd of club-goers. The balcony overlooked a busy area of Coruscant, where speeders were zooming in all possible directions towards various destinations. It was late in the evening, yet regardless there were people out and about.

They stood and looked out over the balcony in silence for a few moments, before Claire stated softly, "This city never sleeps, doesn't it?"

"Of course." He glanced around and frowned, "There is always something to be done."

"I suppose that's true." She frowned and tentatively reached out to take his hand. He permitted her, and she turned his frame so that they were facing one another. He was slightly taller than her, but her shoes did give her a slight amount of extra height.

She found herself wanting to ask him so many strange questions that popped in her mind, questions that were both a mixture of small-talk and personal interests, but she refrained ultimately as Obi-wan took the lead and fulfilled her indirect request. Claire was surprised to find how chaste his hand on her hip felt. There were no insinuations; instead, she felt a rush of calm envelope her. They swayed gently, dancing slowly and carefully, unlike the boisterous and fast-paced dancing inside of the club itself. The silence was peaceful, Claire decided with a soft smile.

Yet when she looked up at Obi-wan, she found that his eyes held a sense of detachment, as if despite his physical body being with her, his mind was elsewhere. It made her heart sink, and she wondered if she should address it or not. She chose not to, but still chose to break the silence regardless. She stopped moving and said softly, "Thank you. That satisfied my desire to dance."

He looked down at her, with a surprised expression. She offered him a smile again, and then disconnected herself from his gentle hold. Their dance had not been intimate by any means at all, she reminded herself, and she figured that he had every right to think about other things. There were more pressing matters, and she, for the most part, convinced herself that that was alright.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." She took a step away from him and looked at Obi-wan again. "Perhaps I should be heading out. I have work in the morning, and I'm sure you have places to be as well."

He nodded, and only stated, "I'll see to it that you arrive home safely."

They left the club then, with the music still raging and their minds bereft of anything to say, other than silence. Her apartment was not far from the club district. Yet Claire felt obligated to say something before parting with him, as she stood outside her apartment door.

"Thank you for this, Obi-wan, I had a good time." Claire nodded and placed her palm on the hand scanner, which was her personal layer of security that she had organized and installed herself. She took a step into her apartment, but felt his eyes on her still. She quickly turned around and said, "If you ever need a mechanic, please do not hesitate to contact me. I can fix just about anything, and hopefully before then I will have my own droid to help me out as well."

He nodded again, smiled, and then added, "I'll be sure to do that. With the way my padawan and I fly and the situations we often get into, I do not doubt that we will be requiring your services soon."

She returned the nod, but found herself unable to turn and walk into her apartment, ending their evening. "Perhaps we could have a meal at Dex's sometime, whenever we both are available."

"I would like that, but unfortunately I will be away from Coruscant starting tomorrow. My padawan and I are being sent to the outer rim. We have to oversee a diplomatic agreement between two tribes who are contemplating joining the Republic. But perhaps some other time, indeed."

"Alright. Safe travels then, Obi-wan. Come back without any cybernetic replacements. Though, I can fix those too."

"I will have to keep that in mind," he smiled at her again, bowed politely, and added as his final comment, "Thank you as well, Miss Elrin."

Obi-wan and Claire said their final goodbyes, and then he turned and walked away. Claire entered her apartment, and once the door was shut, she found herself leaning against the door, sliding down to the ground, and then sitting trapped in her own thoughts for another hour or so. She ended up falling asleep in an upright position against her door. However, the next morning, she awoke in her bed, still dressed in the clothes from the previous evening, but a little startled by the fact. She checked the time, panicked for oversleeping, and then got dressed into her work clothes and headed for the docking bays at the Republic Executive building. As she took a taxi-speeder to the hangar, she wondered briefly about Obi-wan, and the offers she had made the previous evening.


	2. Chapter Two

_**Author's Note**__: The projected chapter amount is around seven to eight chapters, taking place from the Clone Wars into A New Hope and perhaps beyond (to be determined). I had to do a little bit of research in regards to the types of starships that specifically Jedi would use. It was a bit difficult, but wookieepedia saved the day, again. If I've gotten anything wrong, please let me know! Anyways, enjoy!  
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_**Edit**: Oh dear, I apologize for the previous errors. Almost all of them are gone now. Still need a beta, if possible. Also, I suppose I should iterate what an ion driver is. If you can imagine a ship, it's the rockets, essentially.  
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_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own anything related to Star Wars. I simply own my OC._

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><p>I Have a Bad Feeling About This<p>

Chapter Two

Claire was already significantly late by the time she finally reached the Republic Executive building where she was assigned to work for the day. She came into the main loading hangar entirely disheveled and exhausted from her race to not be any more late than she already was. She had not had time to entirely put herself together that morning, so she truly looked the part — recognizably and solely late. Her boss was clearly disappointed by her untimely arrival. She was expected by early morning, but she was arriving around noun.

"I'm sorry, sir I —" she started when she finally crossed the expanse of the hangar area, and was standing before her superior.

"You were supposed to be here a few hours ago, Claire." He interrupted sternly, "Tell me why I should not be telling you to leave this hangar immediately, and that your services are no longer required."

"Uhm —" she looked up and was hardly able to say a word before she was interrupted again.

"Because the Republic needs all of the help it can get. If there weren't any struggles between the damned Separatists, the Trade Federation, and the Republic itself, you would have been out of work by now."

"I understand sir, I apologize for my —" again, cut off by his overpowering voice.

"Enough. I do not want to hear your excuses. There's a Consular-class cruiser at gate 51 that needs immediate repair, and they need it fixed _now_. So get to it before I change my mind about your future as a mechanic."

"Yes, sir. I will get right on that." She stated with a quick nod. She left her superior and began to head over to gate 51. She rummaged through the satchel at her side and pulled out her goggles. The satchel itself was filled with her supplies, tools, and her scrunched up lunch as well. She pulled her goggles over her head and let them rest around her neck as she then began to pull her hair into a messy ponytail with several strands loosely hanging. Finally, she pushed her goggles onto her face. She started to run towards the gate, after getting everything into place, fearing another reprimand from the person dealing with the malfunctioning cruiser. She was so busy trying to appear professional and apologetic at the same time that Claire did not notice who was actually waiting beside the malfunctioning ship.

It did not take much for her sleep deprived mind to realize how embarrassed and apologetic she really felt when she saw whose starcruiser she would be fixing. She saw one man standing beside the immensely large, battered red vehicle, and the other one on top of one of the ship's large wings, who was inspecting for himself some of the machinery. He was wearing goggles similar to her own, and held a high-powered welding tool, which he was using. A little ways away was a large group of people who looked restless, and she assumed that these people were also travelers.

The sudden weight of her embarrassment fell upon her shoulders. They were in such a hurry that they were trying to fix the ship themselves.

"Excuse me?" She called out to man standing on the ground who was turned away from her. "You requested a mechanic, correct? Malfunctioning Consular-class cruiser?"

The man standing on the ground turned his head his head and nodded. It was Obi-wan Kenobi. It did not make her feel any better to see him. She was relieved to see that he did not recognize her with her goggles on.

"Anakin! The mechanic's here, get down from there before you break it any further than it already is."

The man on the ship looked up, turned off the torch, removed the goggles from his face, and looked down at Obi-wan. "Finally! It's about time. What took them so long?"

"I'm so sorry, I arrived late −" Claire began as she walked closer to Obi-wan, but he cut her off with a raised hand.

"Please, we are in a hurry. The other passengers are very restless. I apologize for my friend, he thought he could fix it himself. I could not stop him from grabbing a pair of goggles and working on it himself. Hopefully he did not make our situation any worse."

She nodded and walked over to the ladder leaning against the side of the wing. Obi-wan's friend was coming down the ladder, and once on the ground he looked at her and stated, "For some reason the ion drives aren't working on both of the wings. They aren't igniting. Something isn't connected right, I think. It might be a pair of busted power cells, but I am not entirely sure when it comes to these bigger cruisers. I was welding together a few busted panels on the top that were loose, as we waited for _you_, the mechanic, to show up."

"Alright, thank you for that. That's one less thing I have to repair."

The tall man was dressed in dark clothes, with short, light brown hair. He nodded and stood by Obi-wan again. She pondered momentarily about the man's strange thin braid that fell to his shoulder, but then let the trait pass by in her mind. Claire watched Obi-wan scold his friend for messing with the cruiser himself. She did not put much thought to it, though it only slightly bothered her that a civilian would even attempt to work on a cruiser. She settled on the fact that because of Obi-wan and his friend's situation, the act was perhaps justifiable. She continued climbing up the stairs without thinking any more on it.

Claire settled down beside the malfunctioned cruiser's radiator panel wing and began to work. After a few moments of scanning the insides of the opened panels, she saw the problem and reached into her satchel in order to get the tools she would need to repair it. She was pleased that she charged her own welding tool the night before, knowing that she may need it today for work. She glanced down at Obi-wan and his friend who were engaged in discussion.

"Excuse me!" She shouted down. She waited until they turned their attention to her, and she pointed to the open panels as she explained, "I know what's wrong. The igniters do not function if one of the wings happens to be busted in some shape or form. It's a safety thing." She decided to cut the explanation, and continued to state, "Tell the other passengers and the pilot that they will be able to leave in, oh, I would say about ten to fifteen minutes. They should get settled while I fix this up."

She saw Obi-wan sigh in relief, and he quickly thanked her for the good news. Thus he and Anakin, Claire caught his name from before, exchanged a few more words, and then the two of them walked off to tell the other passengers the news. After that was taken care of, she continued working on the broken magnetic turbines and the ion generator ring that were loose by welding them into a secured position. She always carried a few spare parts (the smaller ones) in her satchel, and was able to properly fix the broken magnetic turbine by replacing some of the other worn down parts. Once she finished fixing what had malfunctioned, she covered the exposed machinery with the withered red panel, and then made her way to the other wing carefully. She unscrewed the panel and did a quick yet thorough exam on the other wing. Everything appeared to be in order. Out of precaution regardless, Claire still made sure everything was tightened up, in place, and still functional.

About fifteen minutes from when she had told Obi-wan and Anakin the diagnosis for the ship, give or take a few minutes, Claire was stepping off the ladder in order to alert the pilot, who was talking with Obi-wan personally.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, and the two of them stopped talking and turned their attention to her. She addressed the pilot specifically. "Everything should be fixed up. If you will just try to start it up, we'll know if everything's in order."

The pilot nodded and walked onto the ship's main platform, disappeared, and a few moments later, Claire and Obi-wan were relieved to see that the ion drivers were functional again.

"Oh, what a relief. We are very behind, unfortunately, so I cannot thank you enough for fixing this for us, and so promptly as well." He stated with a polite smile. Claire nodded and smiled back. However, as she was about to walk away from the ship again, to go to wherever her services would be needed again, he suddenly grasped her arm and pulled her back slightly. He leaned his head close to her ear and he stated softly, "Perhaps when I am back on Coruscant again, I will take you up on your offer to eat at Dex's, Claire."

Before she could say anything in response, Obi-wan was already gone, and instead briskly walking up the inclined platform, as he was the last passenger to board, in order for the ship to leave. Claire was sure that if anyone watched the scene unfold from afar, that they could see how red her cheeks had become. Without much thought on it, she left gate 51 without glancing back as the cruiser prepared to leave the hangar.


	3. Chapter Three

_**Author's Note**__: Hello again! I wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you to those of you who have reviewed and added this story to your alerts. It really helps motivate me to keep writing for you all. This unfortunately is coming a little later than I had originally hoped due toa few reasons. One, SW:TOR is out! I love it thus far. I play a Jedi Consular and a Bounty Hunter on the server Ebon Hawk. I definitely recommend it if you're looking for something fun to do over the holidays. Anyways, happy belated Christmas!_

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own anything Star Wars related. I simply own my OC._

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><p>Chapter Three<p>

**22 BBY, Coruscant**

It normally would not phase Claire, but she soon found herself pondering from time to time the parameters and possible consequences of her hasty boldness when initially interacting with Obi-wan Kenobi. She assumed that her offers were simply polite, and not only completely relevant to his work as a jedi, but also a sign of reciprocity. Yet she had not expected his final words before he boarded the Consular cruiser. His change in heart startled her. Most of all, Claire wondered if there were underlying feelings beneath her offers.

Like most others who found themselves becoming tangled into something too complex, she chose to occupy her mind with work. Her work ethic improved significantly, and she found work to be an honest distraction. Yet repeatedly, and as much as she tried to prevent it, she could not shake the feeling − the intense rush of heat to her cheeks − and the possible implications of his obliging to her offer to eat out together. Over the course of the next several months Claire found herself wondering at what time her interests had become infatuation. She decided that more work would help ease her fears.

Claire continued to venture out with her coworkers and friends to Coruscant's many different clubs, and was often asked about the day she was extremely late to work at the hangar. The request to explain her situation was beginning to grow old, because her friends were attempting to make something out of nothing.

"I've told you this story plenty of times. I was late that day because I overslept."

"But that was the day after you had gone to the club all by yourself."

"Yeah, so?"

They looked at her as if she were oblivious.

"So then spill! You met someone, didn't you?"

She always lied, because she knew the implications of positively answering to a question like that. Yet she never hesitated when she lied. Claire felt that if she told herself that nothing had happened, perhaps nothing really would come out of it.

"No. I've told you all how my evening went. I ordered a drink, sat down, got a little tipsy, people-watched, and then went home. I didn't meet anyone."

This part of the usual conversation became a dissertation, presented by her friends, about how Claire needed to spend more time enjoying herself. She always argued that she did enjoy herself, but through other means. By then, she chose to drop the subject, instead hoping to ultimately let that evening remain as a figment of her memory. She had been tipsy that evening. She had said things that she had not been fully aware of. This of course, was the least she could admit as a response to that evening.

In the matter of work and enjoying herself, Claire found herself extremely proud of herself when she finally completed her assistant droid the month that Obi-wan returned from the Outer Rim. Her assistant droid, as she named DA-R1 (Domestic Assistant, Series 1), which had some feminine and masculine programming installed, for the purpose of the broad range of tasks Claire needed it to perform. Although it clearly had a few bugs in its structure and mainframe, it overall was extremely helpful in organizing her somewhat disorganized life.

Claire did not truly expect a busy jedi knight to follow through with his promise. But she truly did not know Obi-wan then, if she truly felt that way.

So when she received word that he would be back on Coruscant soon, through his holographic message, she was stunned and pleasantly surprised. He told her the days in which he would be available, and Claire was pleased to see that luckily enough a few of those days coincided with some of her own days off.

So she decided to surprise him as well. In his message, it stated that he would be waiting for her at Dex's the first day after of his return on Coruscant, around the early afternoon. She purchased him a small gift, a pair of finger-less gloves. She had seen how worn and ruined his gloves were the day he was traveling away from Coruscant, so she purchased new ones for him as a "welcome back" gift.

Claire chose to wear a dark red dress with short, ruffled sleeves. The dress itself was far more modest than the tight one she wore to the club, and if anything it was exceedingly more casual. She admitted to herself as she was getting dressed that she had no idea what this getting together was, or would be. She chose to make the safe choice, and dressed comfortably. She let her hair hang loosely instead of putting it up in a high tail. Her hair itself had a little wave to it.

As she was making her way to Coruscant's Coco Town on the day in which he would be back on the city-planet, she tangled with her own sudden apprehension. Repeatedly she reminded herself that they really were practically strangers for they had only met twice, each spontaneously. Part of thoughts consisted of the fact that perhaps there was something to the fact that their meetings were spontaneous, that perhaps something outside of themselves willed for it to happen. Claire found the idea ridiculous and cliche, and felt silly for having even thought it. Ultimately, she decided that she would be calm, collected, friendly, and thus, offer Obi-wan a chance to not have to worry about his own business as a jedi.

She did not bother listening, or rather over-hearing, the gossip of the other commuters on the shuttle. They were simply talking about politics, or some incident involving one of the senators, she really wasn't sure, and she did not care.

The diner itself was quite quiet, for the lunch crowd had already left for the most part. There were a few patrons remaining, however. She found him sitting in one of the booths, talking to FLO (WA-7), the waitress droid. His back was to her, and he did not see her approach. FLO made a pleasant, yet mechanical sounding laugh, and then zipped away to the counter. Gently reminding herself to maintain a confident, yet friendly appearance, she smiled. "Hello Obi-wan."

He immediately turned his head upon hearing his name, and he smiled in return. "Hello, Ms. Elrin, please, take a seat."

A stray thought regarding his formality crossed her mind (after all, he had called her by her first name when he had revealed that he knew who she was the last time they spoke). She tossed it aside as quickly as she could, maintained the smile, and sat down across from him. Claire placed the small wrapped package beside her on the seat, and immediately noticed that he was wearing different clothes. These garments were looser, though the same beige, or off-white color. There was no tattered, brown robe over his shoulders, no hood obstructing his face, and only a little tiredness in his eyes. However, said tattered, brown robe was laying next to him on the seat, folded neatly. Regardless, it was the first time she had seen him in a little under a year.

"You look well," she offered, "and from what I can tell, no new mechanical appendages either."

"Yes, unfortunately I did not have the chance to experience such a joy while I was away." He grinned, and she nodded in appreciation.

"That's wonderful to hear. I trust then, that your mission was successful?"

"As successful as it is going to be at the time."

She attentively nodded again. "I understand, I suppose. Diplomacy, I imagine, is a multi-step process. A hasty success would most likely be the wrong form of success. Those matters take time, like most other matters we face."

"An unfortunate consequence, indeed."

"How was the ship? No more malfunctioning, I hope."

"None, everything worked smoothly. You impressed my friend, and you saved him and I from the wrath of angry politicians who feared they would be late, and thus would disrupt the diplomatic situation at hand."

"It was the least I could do." She smiled half-heartedly, and grimaced at the thought of that day, and the expressions of the disgruntled passengers. "Again, I apologize for being late that day. Though it is no excuse, I woke up very late that morning."

"I apologize for keeping you out so late," he offered in return. "You and I both had places we needed to be the next morning. I should have taken you home sooner."

Claire was about to open her mouth in protest, to say that it had not been his fault, but she decided against it, instead choosing to concede to him. "Regardless, I truly did enjoy that evening. It was a pleasant change. Perhaps sometime when you and I are not busy, we can go back to Outlander Club, and begrudgingly dance."

Although she was grinning on the outside, she found herself mortified by her words. She had not even finished this meeting, this get-together, this whatever-it-really-was, and she was already asking him to commit to another whatever-that-really-would-be. She did not know what this was, what lack of control was compelling her to say things without really thinking them through.

"Are you alright?"

It took her a moment to snap out of it, and she blinked once. She then turned to look at him again. "What?"

"First you're grinning, and then you look as if you've seen the jaws of a Zillo-beast."

"I... I was just," she narrowed her brows, and reigned herself in. "Just thinking that I should apologize, actually. I do not wish to make you commit to anything you don't want to. It just kind of fell out before I knew what I was saying, in all honesty."

He nodded, smiled sympathetically and briefly, and turned his head in order to look out the window.

"No, I would rather not dance, actually." Claire flushed out of embarrassment. He paused, or finished speaking (she was not entirely sure which it was). A few moments later, he turned to look back at her again, stated, "Instead, I think I know of a place that you would like more, though without the dancing I'm afraid."

She laughed, and felt relieved. A few moments later, FLO returned and took their orders. They each chose a Xizor salad, and decided to share a nerfsteak. They each ordered water to drink. Once FLO was off to tell the orders to Dex, Claire reached down and lifted the small package onto the table. She offered it to Obi-wan, who raised a brow out of surprise.

"It's just something small. Consider it a welcome back gift as well as an apology for that day in the hangar." He reached out to touch the small, thin package. He hesitated, and was about to protest her comment when she reached out, placed a hand over his own hand, and stated softly, "Please, accept it. It will make me feel better. I want you to have it."

He narrowed his brows briefly, nodded, and began to carefully unwrap it. He pulled the gloves out of the small box and looked them over in his hands as his fingers ran over the smooth leather. His eyes then lifted up to meet hers.

"I saw how worn and nearly ruined your old gloves were. I figured you needed a new pair as a result, for when you're flying. Try them on, tell me if they fit well."

Claire was pleased to see him try them on, and they were a snug fit. He flexed his hands in them, clenched his fists, and nodded. He then removed them, and placed them on the table again. "Thank you. They do indeed fit well. I probably would not have replaced my old pair otherwise."

"That's silly, a good pilot should always have a good pair of gloves. That and, you should always have a good grip on your sabre's hilt."

"You're more than correct. Thank you again." He smiled sincerely, and it made her beam.

A few moments later, amongst the silence that fell between them, FLO came and deposited their meal and drinks. They ate in comfortable silence, and shared a few glances every now and then. Once they were full and finished, Claire said with a laugh, "You know, this must be the first time I have shared a meal with someone without having to hold a conversation in order for it not be awkward." She found herself openly admitting to him more than she expected, but she also found that she could not stop herself. "In fact, I would have never thought that a meal could be so pleasant and comfortable in silence. The food even tasted better. I really enjoyed that."

Obi-wan nodded in agreement as well. "Sometimes it's a nice change of pace: to enjoy a meal without having to worry about the intricacies of conversation. My padawan always makes a point of asking me about this or that, when our next mission is, where it will be, when our next spar will be (he really does like to spar), or when he'll be able to take the Trials. At times it can be a little overwhelming."

"Unfortunately, I can't imagine. I can hardly manage to keep my own life organized, let alone do my own job sometimes. I don't think I could take on an apprentice myself."

"It is quite a lot of responsibility. A master is responsible for teaching and preparing the student for whatever experiences they are to anticipate in the future. At times there's this disjointed gap between a lesson and the real thing, and it allows for eagerness and impatience. My padawan's been trying to cross that gap for several years."

"How old is he?"

"About eighteen."

Claire smiled knowingly. "None of that surprises me."

"I suppose to a degree it's normal. But our code deems that we curtail ambition and impatience in order to become disciplined, prepared, and patient." He paused, thought for a moment, and then leaned back in his seat as he ran a hand through his hair. "I cannot blame him for wanting to move forward in his training. But he needs to learn discipline and patience. He can't always go rushing into something recklessly. We stand to protect and defend, not provoke battle."

She frowned and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Give him time, I suppose."

"As with most things, time is all you really need."

Claire folded her hands on top of the table, and absentmindedly began to rub her thumb over the back of her other hand. They fell into silence, and she was amazed to yet again find solace in silence. In her world that was always moving, always busy, always loud, and always a little disorganized, she found that Obi-wan's presence was able to calm and relax her. She wondered briefly if that was a reason for her sudden and fast infatuation with him. She glanced up at him, and saw that he was staring out the window, most likely in thought. His body was not tense, and from a brief inspection, one could surmise that he was at ease. However, as she watched him for a little longer, she saw how his brows were narrowed, and his hand was clenched tight into a fist. It was her turn to wonder if something was wrong.

"Is something wrong?"

He suddenly turned his head, smiled half-heartedly, and then stated, "Just thinking."

She nodded in turn, without saying anything. They both were looking out the window now, with their eyes glancing at the rain that was starting to fall onto Coruscant's busy surface. It had not been raining when Claire arrived at the diner. The sky itself was stormy, perhaps influenced by the chemicals mass produced by the many businesses.

After a few minutes, she pursed her lips, raised a brow and asked, "What's it like traveling across the galaxy, meeting new people, exploring, learning?"

He seemed momentarily surprised by her question. He mused on it, but then his shoulders slouched back, and he appeared relaxed. "I find it fascinating, sometimes, to see how the Force treats others. You must understand that every living creature is connected by the Force, moved by it, and shaped by it. It can strengthen even those who do not believe in its gifts."

He paused and then continued, "There are many other worlds out there, many extremely different than our own, and everyone has an opinion, a perspective, of these various worlds and how our relations should function, what unspoken trust should be given. Or as a contrast, how much caution. They in turn view us through similar means. But I would like to refrain from using such narrow terms such as 'us' and 'them' because immediately one sets oneself up for narrow-minded beliefs. Such beliefs lead and have already led to careless violence brought about by fear throughout the galaxy. The jedi are taught to remain vigilant, even in adversity. No challenge is too difficult, if one uses selfless reason. Fear is something that must be paradoxically conquered. Fear leads to mistrust, mistrust to hate, hate to violence, and violence to tragedy. As enjoyable as my studies have been, as enjoyable as traveling to these worlds sometimes, if only rarely, can be, I bear a heavy but necessary weight upon my shoulders, one of both duty and trust. Although darkness sometimes falls, our hearts must remain true."

"I understand."

"I'm glad you do," he stated calmly, and he reached out to grasp her hand fully. Claire stiffened; she had not expected such an action on his behalf. "I had not meant to lecture or frighten you, Claire," his voice lowered to a soft tone, "I only wished to honestly answer your question."

"I appreciate your thoroughness."

"Hopefully I did not bore you at all with my rambling. I normally do not discuss my views on diplomacy with many others. My padawan and I discuss such manners at times, but he can be reckless, quick to judge, as you already know."

"Speaking of your padawan... Was he the young man with you in the hangar? Traveling with you?"

"Yes, he was. His name is Anakin. As I said earlier, he's approaching the age to take his Trials and earn the right of being a jedi. He still has some training left, of controlling his emotions, but I am proud of him. He has come a long way, and I know he will grow with every step he takes. I do not doubt he will become a strong member of our order."

Claire nodded, smiled, and squeezed their still joined hands. After a few moments, Obi-wan suddenly cracked a wry grin. She raised a brow in response. He only offered her a good chuckle. Their hands parted.

"In fact, I remember when I was a padawan."

"Oh? Is that chuckle a sign that you're recalling your own boyish antics?"

He smirked, but then looked down at his hands on the table. "It makes me wonder if I ever caused similar troubles to my own master, if he felt the way I feel now."

"I'm sure it's as that old theory goes: you never know how hard it is to be someone else until you walk in their shoes, and in your case a master."

"That's very true." Again, he smiled half-heartedly towards Claire, and then shifted his gaze back to the view outside. She noticed how he held his hands into tight fists, and the slant in his brow. She wondered if she should ask or not, though ultimately she chose to speak.

"Is something the matter?"

He turned again, frowned, and then shook his head. "I would rather not speak of it here. Are you free for the rest of the afternoon? I would like to take you to the place I mentioned before. It lacks dancing, unfortunately."

"I'll somehow manage, and yes, I am free for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I don't have work for few days." She replied with a lighthearted grin of her own.

They both left the diner then, after paying for their meal at the counter and briefly speaking with Dex and FLO. The two diner workers seemed to lighten Obi-wan's mood again, or so Claire observed. He wore his cloak now, with his hood obstructing part of his face.

The rain was much heavier than they both anticipated just from watching it earlier, for it pelted upon the metal plating on the ground and made a faint _thud-thud-thud_ noise. The neon lights gleamed even brighter, and the streets were nearly barren on the ground level. Up above, the sound of commuters in speeders whizzing by mixed with the already loud atmosphere. Claire turned to Obi-wan and couldn't help but shrug her shoulders.

"It really is raining out here isn't it? I did not imagine for it to be a downpour. It was partially sunny when I entered the diner." He pinched his eyebrows as he glanced down at her, and nodded in reply.

"How unfortunate, we'll have to hurry over to the speeder port." She found herself flushing, however, when he opened his draping cloak and wrapped it over her head and shoulders. His arm rested on her shoulder in order to keep the cloth in place against the strong winds. "Here, can't have you getting sick. The port shouldn't be too far from here."

It felt like a long walk for Claire. They rushed, yet they did not race to the port. They exchanged few to no words as they braved the gusts of wind and the dense rain. Despite the silence, she pondered at their shared closeness, a subsequent consequence of the nasty weather. A barely noticeable smile spread across her face, if only hidden thankfully by said weather as well.

By the time they made it to the port, they realized just how drenched they really were. His hood had blown backwards, and as a result, his hair was dripping with rainwater that ran down the side of his face. He took his cloak away from her, took a step back, and began twisting the cloth in order to wring it out. She, however, felt a rush of adrenaline throughout her body.

After a few moments, he turned and looked at Claire with a disappointed frown upon his face. "Well, this won't do at all. It's a mess out there. It probably is not wise to take a speeder out right now."

"It's alright, that was perhaps the most danger and adventure I'll ever have the pleasure of experiencing on Coruscant."

"Is that so?" Obi-wan laughed and grinned. "Well, I'm glad to have braved the storm with you. If you enjoyed it so much, we'll have to do it again sometime."

"It's a date, then." Claire sobered as soon as she let the words out of her mouth. She blinked and shifted her gaze away from his own. Embarrassment silenced her for about a second, until she spoke again in order to correct herself. "I mean, well, it's whatever you want to call it. Whatever you are comfortable with calling it. I do not mean to presume anything, I just said that without really thinking, that's..."

She trailed off when she saw the disappointment in his features. He couldn't look at her (or rather, he chose not to). Of course he only wanted to be friends, or even to a lesser degree, acquaintances. She knew enough about the jedi to know that they could not have significant attachments for most everyone knew it. Instead, they were expected to remain detached enough from society that such influence could not mar their thinking, their reasoning, and their nobler duties.

She knew that her infatuation would only remain unrequited.

Claire wondered if she should say anything else, if saying anything would amend the situation. Otherwise, she realized, only the most awkward of silences could only grip them both. She chose the former idea.

"Look, I apologize. I'll just... I'll just take a speeder home. Thank you for the good company. I probably only have one chance at making myself clear, and perhaps I am a little battered by the weather, or maybe I'm just a little tired, or I guess it could be the honest fact that I've missed you. I really enjoy your company, Obi-wan. If that's all it can be, I understand. I just need to be more careful, that's all. I don't want to lose your acquaintanceship over something as silly as this."

Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Claire decided that she needed to leave. She bowed her head politely, and turned to walk away towards the droid who managed the taxi service for this port. She felt a faint twinge in her chest as she walked away, and was about to order a ride when he called out to her. She hesitated before turning around, but against her better judgment, turned around and addressed him.

"Yes?"

"Please, do not leave without hearing what I have to say."

Claire looked at Obi-wan and found herself frowning. She shook her head and looked down at the ground.

"No, please, don't say anything until _you_ know, Obi-wan, that I do not need anything at all in return. I just wanted to extend my gratitude for your kindness. But please, just leave it at that."

She only turned half of a full circle before he stopped her by touching her arm. He gently turned her, and she suddenly realized how close he really was. His face was a mere few inches from hers. Water still trailed down from his hair, down his cheek, and then down his neck. Claire flushed out of embarrassment, and perhaps at how close his body was. But he spoke against her ear.

"You deserve happiness, Claire."

"You deserve it too." She whispered back. "But I don't need it, at least not now. You are a man who sacrifices his happiness for others. You forsake the world, yet you work amongst it, and you protect it. All I wish to do is extend a small hand out to you, and perhaps you will take it sometime, if only for a moment, like in the diner. At least in that moment... you may feel stronger as a result. A brief, tenuous moment. Nothing lasts; but at least in that one moment it will always last."

"You cannot destroy your feelings Claire, not for my sake."

"I'm not destroying anything. I'm just letting them sit dormant for a little while. Maybe one day you can return the favor. But right now, Obi-wan, all I need is..." she trailed off, and suddenly she asked herself, _What do you really need? _She froze, and looked up at him. He waited for her to finish. She raised her hands, and tentatively placed one of them on his cheek and the other on his shoulder.

He didn't let her finish her statement. Instead, he closed the gap between them by wrapping his arms around her and holding her in place. Claire ran a hand through his hair, and brushed her cheek against his. _This is what I want_, she answered silently.

"Please, just... just let me go home. I feel a little dizzy."

"Then let me take you home." His voice could hardly be heard over the sound of the rain.

She conceded because of several reasons. One, she knew how cornered she really was. Two, she did not want to further waste his time. Three, she was soaked inside and out, and she worried that she would get sick. Four, she feared she would say more things that she would regret.

He moved away from her after a few moments, and Claire purchased a speeder from the taxi droid. He drove the speeder for her, after briefly insisting that she should not drive while ill.

The silence felt heavy between them. Claire wondered why she was not cursing herself for expressing what was perhaps her inner infatuation - or whatever it was - to him. But she found that her mind was at peace, despite the tension. _Something_ was different. She felt free, as if cleared of troubles, if only momentarily. She knew in some far away part of her mind that she wasn't, but she enjoyed the sensation while it lasted.

When they inevitably arrived at her apartment door, she tilted her head to face his, and she saw faint sadness in his eyes. He offered to make her a drink, or whatever she needed, since she was not feeling well, but Claire declined.

"I finished my assistant droid. She can make me some tea. I'll be alright, Obi-wan, thank you, though."

He nodded, and she smiled half-heartedly. She was about to enter her apartment and close her door, when he said her name softly, almost mournfully.

"I still wish to take you to this other place sometime. I promised you. Perhaps in a few days, however. My padawan and I actually have some business to attend to this evening."

"Alright, Obi-wan, just leave a message sometime on my holocom. My droid will take it for me."

They parted in further silence.

Claire knew that admiration could be expressed through other means. Nothing ever needed to be said for it to be real. Perhaps that was the only way it could be. Silence could be the answer.

However, as she laid in her bed that same evening, she wondered how unhappy she really was, how desperate, if she was so willing to cling to something that could not return the favor.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Claire surveyed the HoloNET as she partook in every day. She usually looked for cheap droid parts, cheap schematics, cheap programs, whatever she thought she might someday need for her projects.<p>

However, a news headline caught her eye. Someone attempted to assassinated the Senator Amidala from Naboo the evening before. She casually scanned the article, found that it was a dramatized take on the entire incident, and was just about to click to another article, when the word 'jedi' caught her eye.

_"Two jedi were placed to guard Senator Amidala due to previous assassination attempts, one actually taking place the the same morning of this most recent attack. They thankfully were able to save her life yet again. It is currently unknown who committed this attempted assassination of one of the pillars of the Republic's fine democracy, but an investigation is taking place in order to quickly bring the criminal to justice."_

"Master, your tea."

Claire turned and took the offered tea from DA-R1. "Thank you, Dari dear."

The droid chirped pleasantly, and stiffly walked back to Claire's small kitchen again. Claire sighed and placed the datapad on her bed, and stood up in order to go stand on her apartment balcony. _Perhaps that was what was bothering Obi-wan at the diner, this previous assassination attempt_. _And now this. He stands to serve the Republic. He probably was entrusted to watch over the senator with his padawan._

She held the cup in her hands and took small sips every now and then as she thought about the article.

"Just stay safe, Obi-wan."


	4. Chapter Four

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you again for the lovely reviews. I appreciate the feedback. I'll work on the typos eventually.  
><em>

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own Star Wars or anything related to it. I own my OC(s), that's it._

* * *

><p>I Have a Bad Feeling About This<p>

Chapter 4

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Master, I think someone wishes to enter your established living quarters. They have been knocking for the past several minutes. Shall I escort them inside at your command?"

Claire tilted her head slightly in the other room. She shouted over the sound of her high-powered welding tool, "Alright. Fine, Dari, let them come on in." She then continued working on her ever present project: improving upon her domestic assistant droid who was now letting a stranger into her room.

"And what shall I tell my Master is the reason for your arrival, sir?" DA-R1's sing-song yet mechanical voice was loud enough to be heard in the other room. Claire briefly thought that perhaps she would need to lower the droid's feminine voice qualities as she started to shut off her equipment. She stood up from her desk, leaving behind her work in progress project.

"It's an urgent matter. I must speak with her at once."

"My Master is currently occupied at this moment − "

"Please, it will only take a few moments of her time."

She swore to herself that she recognized the voice and wondered who would be calling on her in the middle of the day, as she attempted to compose herself a little more. She brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes, dusted herself off, and lifted her goggles onto her forehead as the droid called out to her again:

"Oh," DA-R1 made a chirping noise, "Master, a man wishes to speak with you over some awfully urgent and confidential matter," a mechanical giggle-like sound, "he's also quite handsome, for a human biological," Claire sighed in the other room, "Oh! And he said his name is Master Jedi −"

"Obi-wan Kenobi." Claire finished as she stepped into the room.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. As per usual, he wore his formal jedi garb. The expression on his face alerted her that something was amiss. She folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow.

"What's going on? Now you're the one who looks like they've seen the jaws of a Zillo beast."

Her joke fell upon deaf ears, for no grin twitched at the corner of his lips, nor did his eyes ease in brief levity. Now something truly was wrong. Claire dropped the humor, and before he could say any more, she stated, "I apologize for the delayed response. I have been utilizing my free time in order to catch up on some of my own projects."

"No, no, please, I understand. I regret to intrude, but as I stated before, the matter is dire."

"Though, I'll admit you could have alerted me that you were coming over."

"There wasn't... isn't, much time."

She removed her dirty work gloves and placed them on the small side table beside her. "Alright, what's the problem?"

"It's this dart," he paused in order to rummage through one of his pockets in order to pull out a thin metal rod with a sharp point. Obi-wan stepped forward and offered it to her. "Do be careful. Most of the poisonous residue was removed last night, but we aren't exactly sure. I need to know whatever you can tell me about it. Where it was made, who made, why it was made. Anything," he placed a hand on her shoulder, and Claire could sense the desperation in his voice. "please."

She took the dart and brought it closer to her eyes in order to inspect it. After several minutes, she narrowed her brows and lifted her head in order to address him again. "This is about the attempted assassination on Senator Amidala, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is unfortunately. This dart was not fired _at_ Amidala, but her attempted killer. Anything, Claire, anything you can get from this object will be more than helpful of finding out who is attempting to take her life."

She frowned. She placed the dart on the table beside a small stack of papers, and shook her head. "Obi-wan, this isn't exactly my specialty," her voice was even and honest.

"But you must know about this kind of material that it's made out of." He reached up and began to rub his chin. He turned away from her, took a few steps as he paced, and remained silent for a few moments. She watched him, and eventually he sighed. "Claire, I know you purchase parts from illegal sources. I know you use smuggled goods. Surely in your purchasing of such parts, you may have seen material similar to it."

He sounded defeated, but she immediately narrowed her brows and let out a low gasp of disgust. It was his last chance at getting her to talk, and talk she did.

"I never told you about my dealings... at least _those_ dealings..." she was infuriated. "Just what are you insinuating Obi-wan?"

"Listen, Claire, I'm at a dead end. I need this information, and if it means making you angry, then I apologize for doing just that." He seemed apologetic, and part of Claire truly wanted to end the conversation at that, and forgive him. The other part wanted to tell him to leave. She chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. She knew when to pick her battles.

"I don't know how you found out about it, but I do not wish to further discuss the matter. No matter. It seems that no secrets can be withheld from a jedi."

"Now wait, just what are _you_ insinuating?" He folded his arms across his chest, and his tone was defensive.

"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to use the Force to find out about my personal errands in order to see if I'm trustworthy, or some other ridiculous reason. What I do in the underworld market concerns me and me only. It's none of your business."

"Claire, it is my business." She did not see _how_ it did, and she narrowed her brows at him in annoyance. "It' not only illegal, but it's also dangerous. You have to look out for more than just your hobbies, you have to look out for your own life."

"And who are you to tell me about danger, Obi-wan? Please, don't lecture me about it." She then pointed to the dart on the table. She turned to look at him, and she shook her head a few times. "That's a deadly weapon." She walked away from him, removed her goggles, undid her pony-tail, and ran her free hand though her loose hair. With her back to him, she suddenly found herself choking on her own words. "You threaten your life over and over, and for what reason?" Her voice lowered and shook. "A duty? Who's there to protect _your_ life, huh? Just what are you really dabbling with?"

Obi-wan walked up towards her, and stood behind her. He gently turned her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and gripped them so that she stayed in place. "Please, Claire, I'm sorry for bringing it up, but I need your help now. This is beyond you and I."

She sighed. She averted his eyes, and then slowly nodded. "Fine. You're right." He loosened his grip on her and took a step back. She continued, "I promised to help you whenever you needed me." Her voice remained low, hardily audible, for she feared it would crack otherwise. "But I trusted you."

"You can continue to trust me." He said firmly. "I have not tricked you, manipulated you, or done anything that pertains to mistrust, to you. I do not abuse the Force."

"Yeah, well," she paused and walked over to the table again. She lifted the dart and inspected it again. "I don't back out of promises Obi-wan."

He nodded, and she replaced her goggles over her eyes, yet kept her hair loose. She pressed a small button on the upper rim her goggles' rubber casing, and was able to examine the object's finer details. "You know, you're such a mystery," she stated nonchalantly without looking up, "sometimes I think I have you figured out, and then you go and make a whirlwind out of a gust of wind."

His chuckle surprised her. "And what exactly makes me so mysterious?"

"Your odd sense of charm. The way you know things. You listen... though when you talk, you always say the right things. It's as if you always have a upper hand on the conversation."

"I don't always say the right thing, Claire."

"Well, I guess no one can ever say you _aren't_ the noble and always humble jedi."

She didn't see the expression on his face, yet his pause or hesitation (she could not tell from the silence) caused her to flash her eyes up to look at him briefly. Finally, he stated simply, "I'm not perfect."

"Of course you aren't. No one is."

"I just do what I think is right. I do my −"

"Duty, I know." She sounded more sarcastic than appreciative.

Silence fell between them again.

"Hand me my datapad, if you don't mind. It's in my room, on top of my bed."

He nodded, momentarily left, and then returned with the device in hand. He placed it on the table and then pulled up a chair as he watched her look at the dart. Claire immediately began to research the materials on the HoloNET. After several more minutes of silence, she turned to Obi-wan, and pointed at the dart.

"It's not much, but it's something."

"I'll take whatever you know. I came seeking your help, and I will be appreciative of whatever you know."

"It was manufactured on Kamino, ever heard of it?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, you see..." she paused and looked at him with a quick glare, "a lot of my purchases, as you know, arrive to me through smuggled means. I have purchased hardware and parts similar to the materials that this saberdart is made out of."

He nodded and his eyes followed her fingers as they ran over the metal. "And?"

"I don't know much else about it, really. I just pay for the goods. I don't ask questions. For safety reasons and all. Those smugglers, all they care about is their pay, their ship, and their drinks." She placed the dart in his hands. "But, I do know someone who knows more about that planet than I do. Dex."

"Really? Are you positive?"

"Of course, I promise." Claire offered a smile, but it faded. "That's all I know. Dex'll be able to tell you more."

Obi-wan smiled slightly, and for what Claire thought was less than a second's time. "Thank you Claire." He began to make his way towards her door again after standing from his chair without further hesitation. He also thanked DA-R1, who sweetly (or as sweetly as her feminine programming allowed) told him goodbye in return.

Before he was out of her door, Claire followed after him. She abruptly found herself worrying that she would not see him again for a long time. She did not want her last impression of her to be marred by her anger towards him.

"Wait, Obi-wan." He stopped just outside of her apartment's entrance and turned around. "If I find out anything else that may be of use to you, I'll be sure to contact you."

"That would be most helpful." He bowed his head politely and then promptly left her standing in her own doorway.

Once her door was closed, she cursed loudly to herself. Even DA-R1 could sense that something was amiss with her master, who sometimes had a hard time interpreting emotions. The droid stiffly walked up to Claire and asked if there was anything that she could do to be of service.

Claire nearly had forgotten about DA-R1, and was startled out of her own mixture of anger, regret, and disappointment. With a sigh, she replied, "No, Dari. I'm..." she trailed off and walked towards her table, picked up her datapad, and headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to do some research in my room. Perhaps there's something I missed earlier."

"Alright then, Master." The droid chirped pleasantly, completely missing her master's lowered, mournful voice. "I shall prepare dinner, if that is what you wish."

"Just something small. Maybe some tea, too," she called out as she shut the door to her bedroom. Claire sat down on her bed. After quickly remembering how dirty and greasy her clothes were from her earlier activities, she decided to clean up before crawling into bed with her datapad. She thought a nice shower would ease her anxious mind, and perhaps also take her mind off a certain jedi.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Claire ate dinner alone in her bed as she researched the planet of Kamino. She hoped that Obi-wan had better luck than her, because she hardly found any viable information that could be of real use to him.<p>

A few hours later, just before midnight, DA-R1 knocked on her door, came in at her master's approval, and then alerted her that someone was at the door again. Claire promptly stood up and left her quarters in order to open the door. She briefly pondered who would be knocking on her door so late into the evening.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Yet again she did not expect Obi-wan Kenobi as her visitor.

"Hello again," he politely stated as she allowed him inside. "Were you asleep? I do apologize if you were." He addressed her cream colored nightgown.

"No, I was relaxing, that's all. I finished dinner a few hours ago. Are you hungry? There's some food leftover, I'm sure. Dari always cooks a lot, even when I tell her not to." He shook his head, but Claire was not convinced. "I insist, you probably have been working all day. You ought to eat something."

"Alright, alright. I'll have something, thank you." She guided him into the small kitchen connected to the main part of her apartment. He sat down at the small table as she and DA-R1 gathered the leftovers for him. She then sent DA-R1 away, preferring to take care of the food herself, she decided.

"It has been a long day." She heard a tired sigh. "But as I said earlier, it's all very urgent matters."

It only took her a few minutes to re-heat the leftovers. She watched the food closely, so as not to overcook it again (she hated to admit it, but DA-R1 was a much better cook than she, in both taste, style, and approach). She raised a brow as she placed the plate of food and a glass of water infront of him. She sat down across from him and folded her arms across her chest. "Then why return here, might I ask?"

He did not immediately reply, and instead chose to eat. Claire couldn't help but laugh, as it was quite obvious how hungry Obi-wan really was. He ate the food rather quickly, and had not stopped to answer her question.

"Well, gosh, Obi-wan, I do hope you chewed."

He too laughed as he wiped his mouth clean. "Compliments to your droid's cooking skills." Claire smiled for a moment, but he continued, "and compliments to the woman who made said droid."

"I was actually working on replacements, or I guess upgrades for Dari earlier. As you saw earlier, her limbs move stiffly. I... ah, purchased more flexible metal over the HoloNET and some better parts than her originals. She'll be running and skipping before I know it."

He furrowed his brow and then relaxed gradually. "I... I wanted to apologize for that, earlier."

"Please, Obi-wan, it's fine." She frowned and stood up and took his plate away. He declined more food, but Claire chose to make herself a small glass of water as well. She sat down again quietly, and then folded her hands on the table beside her glass.

"It _isn't_ fine, Claire. I should explain myself." He took another gulp from his glass. "Your droid accidentally let it slip. She asked if I were delivering some parts that she knew were coming from the Works. I have been through the Works plenty of times to know about the smuggling that occurs there."

"Oh, is that so?" She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It happens, I suppose. I guess even droids have a hard time keeping secrets. Please, don't feel bad about it. It's... as you said, there's more important matters to worry about."

Obi-wan nodded and his smile made her feel relieved. They did not bring up smuggling or the Works again that evening.

"You must be proud of yourself, it's a good prototype," he stated after a few minutes. He held her gaze, and Claire wondered if she would ever have a chance to organize her thoughts, or more closely, her feelings about him. She stared at him as he stared back, and she forgot that they were having a conversation in that moment. Suddenly she jerked herself out of the small trance she placed herself in, and ran a hand through her combed brown hair.

She also had nearly forgotten that he was complimenting her. "Oh, yes, I suppose I am. It's a work in progress, regardless."

They each shared another smile, and yet again Claire found herself at peace in his presence. Once they each finished their glasses of water, she stood up and took those as well to her sink. She washed the dishes for DA-R1, knowing already that the droid could not wash dishes due to her metal not being water resistant. After a few minutes, she turned and saw Obi-wan sitting with his hands folded on the table and his eyes closed. He breathed evenly and quietly, and she knew he was meditating. She walked over to his side of the table and stood beside him. She watched him rest, and figured he was probably exhausted.

Claire gently placed her hand on his shoulder, and he stirred. He immediately came to life again and tilted his head in order to look at her. "You should probably get some sleep. You can stay here for the night, if you wish."

He blinked and lifted a hand to rub his tired eyes. She realized that her latter sentence could be misconstrued easily. She cursed to herself, and then shrugged a few moments later. "You can take my bed, and I can take the small cot I have in my work room."

Obi-wan shook his head. "No, I can take the cot. Please, I've already intruded − "

"You haven't intruded at all. I insist." She removed her hand on his shoulder and folded her arms across her chest. "It's late, and you're exhausted. You need to get some sleep."

Claire smiled when he conceded. He stood from his chair and followed her into her bedroom. He removed his tattered robe and placed it at the bottom of her bed. She walked over to her bed and began to pull down the sheets for him. She found herself flushing in the dark room. The only light that peered inside came from the outside city area, for her bedroom was connected to the apartment's balcony. She faintly heard the distant sound of speeders moving about the city. After a few moments, she stepped away from her bed and was unable to look at him, even in the darkness. He sat down on the mattress and Claire knew that he was watching her closely.

"Ah... well, if you need anything else, Obi-wan, do not hesitate to let me know." She softly said with a smile. She turned to leave, but he stopped her by reaching out and gently took her hand. Claire glanced over her shoulder at him, and they stayed still. She conceded, and assumed that they were not done talking.

She eased and rotated around to look at his outlined figure. "Tell me why you really came here tonight, Obi-wan." She wanted an answer. Her voice remained steady, firm, and low. "You would not have come unless it was something important, something that was just as important and urgent as this other issue about Amidala's attempted assassin."

"Claire," he hesitated, but chose to ask, "Do you trust me?"

"If I can't trust a jedi, I can't really trust anyone now, can I?" she mused.

Now he reached out and took her other hand. Something was amiss yet again. She narrowed her brow suspiciously, but gradually un-tensed as he gently squeezed her hands. "I mean do you trust me as a man."

Claire was not sure if she should be concerned, suspicious, or excited by his words. She thought quickly, and looked within herself for that answer. He was honest and sincere, she understood that to be true. But as she addressed earlier that day, he remained a mystery. _He's allowed to have secrets too_, she decided. Without further hesitation, she took a few small steps towards his seated position, and was surprised when his calloused hands fell away from her hands and instead moved to the small of her back.

She leaned forward and whispered close to his ear, "Yes, I do."

Her body trembled at his soothing touch on her back. It had been too long since she felt the strange mixture of emotions simmering throughout her; yet, they felt fresh and Claire chose to welcome them. One hand slowly moved up her back over the thin nightgown. She needed to remind herself to breathe in their silence. Tentatively she placed her own hands on his shoulders. Her fingers brushed over his covered collarbone and drew small circles.

Eventually, the silence was broken.

"I leave for Kamino in the morning," he began as his hand on the small of her back too began to lazily draw random, meaningless shapes. "My padawan has already taken Senator Amidala back to her Naboo, for her safety."

"What are you saying, Obi-wan?"

This time he did not hesitate. "I'm saying that I won't be on Coruscant for a long time."

She trembled as she heard his verdict. She did not know what to make of those words immediately, so she chose to ask, "Shouldn't you be resting, then?" She could not hide the way her voice shook from him.

The weight of his words slowly fell upon her. After being away for so long, he was leaving again for an indefinite amount of time. It made her chest hurt. It nearly made her eyes water, but she reminded herself that she needed to remain strong.

"I cannot sleep."

"Why?" she questioned. _Is it for the same reason?_

"I've had a hard time sleeping for the past several weeks." He paused and he let out a low sigh. One of Claire's hands moved up over his shoulder in order to cup his neck, and then through his hair. He let out a low murmur, and she leaned even closer to him, with the hope to draw out that noise again. "It's only gotten worse, I'm afraid."

She raised a brow and she could not help but briefly chuckle. "You're being awfully indirect," she stated afterwards.

"I honestly don't know, Claire." She nodded, but he continued. "But I am most confident as to how to fix it."

And with that as his final word, the hand on her shoulder moved to cup her cheek. Before she could say anything, he closed the gap between them by kissing her. The sounds of the ever-awake city echoed in her ears. Her eyes remained open, despite the darkness, as she eased into the kiss, but soon enough she submitted to Obi-wan. The hand in his hair began to caress his scalp, and the hand on her cheek rubbed against her cheekbone.

Though the kiss was brief, she parted with a small smile on his face and presumed that he was smiling just as broadly as her.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"As if a weight's been lifted off of my shoulders."

Claire exhaled slowly, and found his bittersweet words to be comforting. She nuzzled her cheek against his own before meeting his lips again. Never had she so badly wanted to ask a question, a simply phrased question, that would bombard whatever she hoped or knew they were sharing in those few moments.

_What does this mean_, she silently pleaded. She found that she could not resist. Thus, she moved away from him slightly, and though their kisses were mostly chaste, she found herself breathing heavier.

"Obi-wan," she whispered and felt her chest cringe again. "What does this mean?" Her request was neither chiding nor demanding. "Please tell me what this is."

He hesitated again, and his hand slowly slid away from her cheek in order to run through her hair as well. It made Claire smile half-heartedly.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone Claire," was his only reply.

Then it dawned on her. He could never bring himself to say it directly. She closed her eyes and then nodded.

"I understand." And she truly hoped she did.

* * *

><p>They shared a bed that evening, choosing not to be separated any more from the other any longer than they ultimately would be. They shared each other's company, and held one another. Before they each had fallen asleep, Claire placed four kisses upon Obi-wan: one on his forehead, one on each cheek, and then one on his lips. Each held a silent message.<p>

_I'll miss you_, the first said.

_Stay safe_, the second.

_Come back to me_, the third stated.

Before she placed the fourth, he embraced her and she swore that she heard him murmur something. A few moments later, she placed the fourth.

_I love you, even if you cannot love me back_.


	5. Chapter Five

_**Author's Note**__: As with most other authors' notes, thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy. I thank you all again for the reviews. Pardon any errors for now. I only own my OC(s)._

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><p>I Have a Bad Feeling About This<p>

Chapter 5

As with most events in Claire's life, the flurry of activity met its crest and then tapered off again, and thus fell back into routine and consistency. Nothing could be done about the immediate changes that occurred as a result of what happened. She knew that everything would inevitably continue, push onwards, and like last time, she kept herself busy with work.

Work in itself was changing. It only took a matter of months, but a rumor began to spread throughout her coworkers that the Republic was arming itself. Troops were not being raised at the moment, but the Separatist crisis escalated with time as well. The Senate continued to give the Chancellor special emergency powers, and people cheered in their security. Coruscant busied itself with activity as well, for a galaxy that never rested would continue to never rest.

Claire wondered about Obi-wan from time to time. There was no communication between them, much like the last time he was off-planet. However, this time she found it harder to immerse herself elsewhere and forget about it for at least a little while. She ended her business as a private commission based mechanic, and solely devoted her time to working in the Senate's hangar. She told herself it was for the better pay. Her reasoning was that if the Republic would soon be going to war with the Separatists, that credits would run thin, and she would need to support herself somehow for when the storm arrived. Regardless, as much as she told herself to stay focused in the hangar, she still found herself checking the arrivals gates, hoping to see his return, and perhaps smile from afar.

When she was away from work (for she soon discovered that when one tries to work lengthy periods of time for the sake of staying focused, if not too focused, one eventually crashes and burns out), and at her apartment, she would sometimes search the HoloNET for the latest news on the rising tension between the two entities in the galaxy. But the news of at least anything pertaining to the serious matter at hand, was little in itself. Even her curious protocol droid asked questions about the mysterious jedi master who frequented Claire's home, and his lack of visits as of late.

"Dari, he never _frequented_ my home. He came here for business only," she tried to explain one evening. The droid wasn't getting it.

"Business? Master, are you working with him?"

"No, I'm not." She shook her head and frowned. But her prototype droid did not seem to understand the facial expression, and continued to misinterpret her master's behavior.

"Will you not see him again? He was a very pleasant organic, indeed. You should invite him over more." The droid made a chirping noise − her attempt at a laugh − and then asked her master if she would like more tea.

Claire ignored the tea question and felt the needed to restate, "Dari, you have to understand. That jedi and I are only acquaintances. He came here for business. I helped him a couple of times when he needed some extra help. It isn't what you're thinking." She paused. "I'm going to make a few adjustments to your programming if you continue to have problems misinterpreting organic emotions."

"Oh," a low pitched noise came from DA-R1, "but master, am I not serving you well?"

"No, nothing's wrong with your service. You're a wonderful prototype. You just have a few problems understanding sad −" she stopped herself, narrowed her brows, and reached up and rubbed her tired eyes. "No, no, no. I'm not sad. Forget I said that. Listen, it won't be much of a change. I'll work on it the next day I'm off. There's nothing to worry about."

"Yes, master, I understand. I shall not worry. I anticipate these improvements, then. Do you require anything else? Tea? Dinner? Foot-massage?"

She could not help but laugh at the idea. She started to gather her datapad and as she walked into her bedroom, said over her shoulder, "No, Dari. Just the tea. I'll be in my quarters. That'll be all, afterwards."

Before getting comfortable in her sheets for the evening, she cleaned up, put on a nightgown, took a sip of the tea now sitting at her bedside table, and then got under the sheets. She was about to sift through the HoloNET again, when she saw that there was a message waiting for her. She activated it and immediately saw that it was an old message, but new to her. Claire assumed that she must have missed it somehow. It was dated for the morning of Obi-wan's departure to Kamino. A tight, clenched feeling in her chest heightened her anticipation and curiosity as she began to read the message to herself.

It read:

_Claire,_

_ I apologize for being unable to thank you again for your help and support in this matter. For your hospitality, your knowledge, and your understanding. I regret leaving before you woke, but my departure from Coruscant is occurring in the early morning. _

_ We will probably not see each other for a very long time. If not longer than before. I don't know if I'll be able to contact you as well while I am away. I will try, but I am not sure. I will not make any promises that I know that I may not be able to keep. There is much weighing on my mind, as I am sure there is much weighing upon your own. Please do not worry for me. Do not miss me. Stay strong and diligent. More importantly, you must move forward. Don't wait for me._

Claire's tea was finished, and despite DA-R1 interrupting her immersion in his message, and asking what was wrong with her master, she shooed the droid out of her room with an almost too scolding tone. She did not want her droid to see her like this. She rubbed her eyes, hoping to dry them again, and regain some composure.

_ These words are not much consolation, I realize. But I know you will be fine. If there is anyone at all on Coruscant whom I know can remain strong, I know that it's you. Continue doing what you do best. _

_ I do not have much time left, but I want to especially thank you for the good night's rest. It will likely be the only lengthy rest I'll have in a long while._

_ Sincerely, _

_ Obi-wan Kenobi_

* * *

><p><em>"Fellow citizens, the Republic is now at war. What is now being called the fight for the entire galactic universe is now at hand. Geonosis was just the beginning. The Senate has given Supreme Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers in order to deal with this crisis. Can the fate of the Republic stand in the hands of one man controlling the Senate? Can nothing be done to stop the Separatists? An army of clone troopers was sent in alongside 212 jedi. The Jedi Council participated in this battle, and suffered massive casualties as a result. What can be done? Is this force truly unstoppable against those who in fact wield The Force? We at HoloNET News Network will be updating you on this matter when new information streams to us from our journalists in the field. We have journalists already flying out to the sights to give you first-hand accounts of the battles and all the juicy details. We encourage you to read more about the 'Clone War' after the break..."<em>

* * *

><p>"The Republic needs all the help it can get, miss."<p>

"Are you sure this is necessary? My knowledge and specialty lies in fixing vehicles and droids, not tending to the wounded."

"The Republic needs all the help it can get, and sacrifices must be made in order to defend against the Separatists. We need those who have experience in medical technology most importantly. The Republic needs you to do your part in these trying times."

"I signed up to work on vehicles and droids, machines! Not the wounded. Can't you read?"

"I'm sorry miss, that's the only option we have at this moment in the field of technology. Will you do your duty to the Republic or not?"

"Yes, yes, fine! Quit the guilt trip, I've already signed up, haven't I?"

"Your Republic thanks you for your service, miss."

* * *

><p>Duty. It seemed she could truly never escape from it.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>19 BBY, Coruscant<strong>

"Listen, soldier, you have to stay still for me while I take your measurements for this implant I'll eventually be installing for you. It will only take a moment −"

"Damnit, it all hurts! Can't you give me something stronger?"

"I've told you already, if you could just sit still for a _moment_ I could then be finished, and the droids could give you your damn medicine! So just shut up already and we'll get this done and over with!"

All lack of pleasantries aside, Claire's new job as a military doctor of the Republic's Grand Army was going as swimmingly as any high stress job could go. She had already gotten over the strange acknowledgement that the majority of the army's soldiers were quite literally _clones, _and was now regularly cleaning up the messes that battles made. Her regular work varied from administering medpacs, stim-shots, rotating the wounded in bacta and kolto tanks, and installing cybernetic implants on those lacking appendages (the luckier ones). Every day, regardless, she thanked the stars that she was not a field doctor.

She had moved from station to station over the past three years, depending on the battle, but was now again on Coruscant in order to deal with the wounded from the most recent battle that was, in fact, over the city-planet itself. The clone troopers dropped like heavy weights from the sky, crashing onto the surface, and damaging some of the urban structures. But most troopers this time were killed in action. The men she currently worked on were transfers from others stations and other past battles. Claire did not presume to think that they liked this war any more than she did. And again, she thanked the stars she was not a field doctor.

It was not the fact that she could not stand the gore of war: the massive casualties, the yelling, the anger, the stress, or the recovery process. It felt like she had been with war all her life. The galaxy never rested, not when conflict remained. She did what she needed to do to stay alive: helping others stay alive.

"There, I'm done," she stated after a few minutes of measuring and recording the information onto her datapad. Claire signaled for the medical droid nearby to administer the proper dosage of adrenals. "We'll be seeing each other again soon. Don't miss me too much, will you?"

As she left the room, she heard the soldier groan in pain. She badly needed a drink, but there was work to be done. Patients to see. Implants to adjust. Tanks to rotate. Medicine to dose out. Medipacs to order. The list continued on and on, every day, all day. Claire rubbed her eyes as she walked down the hallway in the Republic's Central Medcenter. Everything felt off. Her eyes felt puffy. Her neck was stiff. Her feet were burning. Her head started to throb. Her vision blurred. Her pace started to slow without her realizing, and before she knew what was happening, she stumbled over her own feet, but caught herself against the nearby wall.

She cursed to herself, louder than she hoped or cared for, sobered from her sudden dizzy spell, and then continued walking to her next destination. A medical droid stopped her for a brief moment in order to address where she was needed now. With a nod and a forced smile that the droid probably did not comprehend, she made her way to the next room, the next patient, and the next raging headache.

It took her only a few minutes to find her way to the next room. Claire, preoccupied by the information she chose to review on her datapad, did not look up when she walked inside. "You'll have to pardon my late arrival, but there are simply so many of you soldiers in here today that I really must admit that I'm starting to wonder if you all injure yourselves on purpose in order to get a break already − "

Claire looked up from her datapad as the man seated upon the medical bed turned his head in order to look over his shoulder at her. She nearly dropped her datapad.

"Claire?"

Obi-wan Kenobi did not look any different, besides the few new scars on his face and hands. He wore the same simple cream colored shirt he always could be found in. His eyes looked just as tired as hers, but the small glint of surprise was still recognizable. His hands were at his sides, not folded in his lap for meditation. He had been waiting.

She found her voice again in a moment's notice. Her brows narrowed and she sighed in exasperation. "Excuse me, but just what are you doing here General Kenobi?"

She knew enough about his participation in the military just from overhearing conversations amongst patients. She knew that many jedi masters were now officers of the Republic's army. She knew he was one.

"That's a strange question to ask someone who's come here seeking medical attention?"

"You?" Claire found that her voice was more sarcastic than empathetic. It disturbed her more when she began to laugh. "Oh, that is simply too funny. Who are you trying to kid? Well? You, General Kenobi, never are injured, or if you are, you never seek attention of that sort."

"I beg to differ, _Miss_ Elrin."

"That's Doctor Elrin to you." She stated firmly, as if it actually meant something to her. In that moment and time, she could not put her finger on why she was acting rudely and apathetically. "Now go on, try to humor me. This dreadful place could use some humor."

"Alright, I think I have a good joke in me. You're in luck." Claire folded her arms while still holding the datapad, and waited. "What did the exhausted jedi say to the tired doctor?"

"I don't know, it's your joke."

He nodded and grinned. "I really could use a check up, do you mind helping me out?"

"That's a bad joke." She said with a frown. She sighed, unfolded her arms while shaking her head, and then walked over to the other side of the room. She leaned against the other medical bed and faced him. "But don't worry, I have a better one."

"Oh please, don't keep me waiting. As you said, this place needs more humor."

"Okay. Here goes. A jedi walks into a medcenter and asks for help. He could be at his own healing quarters inside of the Jedi Temple, bothering them, but he chooses to come here instead. Or better yet, the Senate's medcenter. He tells the doctor, 'I'm seeking medical attention. I think I hit my head. I'm in the wrong place.' And so the doctor says, 'Gee, we're understaffed and overflowing with patients. Maybe you should try elsewhere.'"

"I've heard better." The grin remained on his face, but as he shifted his body slightly, he winced and the grin fell away. "I forgot to tell you the other part of my joke's punchline. He really could use some help."

"Is that so?" Claire folded her arms again. "And what could be ailing this jedi? Hm?"

"Let's just say a little bit of the universe fell onto him, knocked him unconscious, and then when he woke up, his body a little beaten for that matter, you know, just a little, he had to fly an abandoned cruiser that was falling from the atmosphere towards the planet's surface, and managed to land it safely. So he does all this, and in his adrenaline rush, forgets about his injuries until now." He paused. "Did I mention the best part? He absolutely _hates_ flying."

Claire did not reply, but instead stared straight back at him. She tried to do what so many other jedi could do. She tried to read Obi-wan. It was harder than she initially imagined, but also at the same time so obvious. They were two tired soldiers fighting what was starting to feel like a war without an end in sight, he with a lightsaber and she with her medicine and technology. So she chose to look at other parts of him. She saw the wear on his hands, could almost feel the dry, calloused sensation on her own hands. She saw the lines of exhaustion all over his face, the frustration, and most importantly she the same questions reflected back to her. Her eyes trailed away from him, and instead fell to the even more tattered robe laying beside him, and the now worn gloves − the gloves she gave him three years ago.

Suddenly she found that she could not look at him. Everything began to hurt again. Her head, her chest, her neck, her feet − all of which sufficed to make her tremble. Claire covered her mouth in order to attempt to suppress the shudder and the way her throat made a sobbing noise that she hated. Her other free hand clenched and unclenched into a fist. _It wasn't supposed to go this way, _she told herself. It became harder to think straight, harder to see clearly. Her knees buckled and she knew that she needed to catch herself before she plummeted to the −

Obi-wan caught her, for the dazed expression on her face was enough to alarm any nearby bystanders. He steadied her by gripping her shoulders and eventually easing her into a sitting position. He offered to get her a glass of water, but Claire refused in a low voice.

"Well, this is surprising. I come here seeking medical attention and the doctor who's assigned to take a look at me nearly passes out in turn." Claire saw his small smile, but felt too weak to make a comment in return. "I could tell immediately, the moment you walked into here, that you haven't been sleeping. You were dragging your feet, and your expression gave you away, I'm afraid."

She looked up at him with heavy eyes. "And?"

"Well, I didn't expect that I would be the one playing doctor."

"No one's forcing you to do anything."

"You've grown more bitter."

"War does that to you, doesn't it?"

"It can, you are indeed correct." He frowned and chose to take a glass of water for her, despite her protests. A moment later, he returned and offered the glass to her. She reached up with a shaking hand, and was about to take it when he moved it away from her. "Your hands are trembling. I don't want you to spill." He tilted the glass above her lips and she greedily gulped away, quenching her thirst, if only momentarily.

The water did indeed help Claire, and the throbbing in her head and feet began to lessen. With her still trembling hand, she reached up and rubbed her neck. She watched him as he settled back on the bed across from her, with his hands folded in his lap now. A rush of guilt overcame her, and she stated in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

He nodded, shrugged his shoulders slightly, and did not reply.

"I... it's just been rough. I know that's hard to say to someone who's actually out there fighting the physical fight."

"War is difficult for everyone."

"I just didn't expect to see you in here. I apologize for giving you such a hard time. I don't know what overcame me." Her flat voice lacked any heavy emotion besides fatigue. She sighed. "Or maybe I did want to see you again. I don't know. I can't think straight."

"You need sle−"

"I don't need anything." She interrupted. "I don't have time to need things."

"You need your rest if you wish to continue not needing things." He chuckled, and then continued. "Otherwise, you're going to drive yourself to even more fatigue, until you really do pass out."

"I wasn't in the process of passing out earlier because of exhaustion or frustration or whatever it is or was, or still is." She shook her head and gestured for him to stop. "Or maybe it was because of those things, or maybe it wasn't − damnit my head is throbbing again −" she closed her eyes tight and her hand fell away from her neck. Her jaw clenched, and then released with a stream of curses. "For star's sake, Obi-wan! Will you just get out of my head!"

"I'm sorry?" He appeared confused now. Claire fumed.

"You damn well know what you're doing. Don't act dumb."

"Really, you're going to have to humor me again."

"Your gloves! Those were the gloves I gave you!"

"Yes," he stated as he grabbed the leather gloves and held them in his hands. "These are indeed the gloves you gifted me."

"Well why are you wearing them?"

"Claire, they are gloves. They're meant for wearing." He grinned at his own dry sense of humor, and continued watching her.

"It's been three years and I still haven't figured out how to get you out of my head. I can't think straight. You're making it all wrong. Can't you just stop? I thought work would fix it, but here I am, still as ridiculous as before."

Obi-wan listened to her and maintained eye-contact. He remained silent afterwards, let her anger simmer and fall away into only a frown. He stood up from the bed again and walked over to her. He stood infront of her and looked down at her tilted head. When he did reply to her, it was hard for Claire to hear his exact words because they were so quiet.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Because you can't get me out of your head?"

"Yes." She tried to gather her thoughts, to pick her words wisely, but she was already talking before she even realized it. Obi-wan sat down beside her and listened. "It's hard to fall asleep in a bed with half of it missing."

But then he enveloped her body in his arms, holding onto her tightly. He tilted his head slightly and whispered to her, "It's hard to fall asleep when you miss someone so much."

She nodded, and weakly returned his embrace. Her head leaned against his shoulder, and although she knew that he was wincing, she wanted to be close to him. She laid a kiss on his collarbone and then his neck. "Can't you just say it, just once?"

"I don't know." One of his hands slowly undid her pony-tail in order to let a hand freely run through her hair, smoothing it out, and reassuringly comforting her.

Claire wanted to feel frustrated, but she chose to accept defeat rather than stir another battle between them again. She apologized for her behavior before, and after a few more moments of silence and being close, they parted and she properly examined his body. There were some internal injuries that a good bit of bacta could fix, as well as some abrasions on his chest and arms. He explained what he remembered before the unconsciousness, and Claire herself winced at the idea of being thrown into the air, hitting a wall, and then having a heavy piece of metal fall onto him. But she knew that fussing over it would not fix his wounds, nor would it prevent him from engaging in such activities. Appropriate application of bacta and the bandaging of his chest to assure proper healing were the products of her prognosis.

They arranged an afternoon together for the next time they each were off from their regular duties. Obi-wan was patched up and ready to leave, and Claire needed to get back to work.

"I promised to take you to out sometime, do you remember?" He asked as he put his shirt back on over the bandages.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "You mean when we were at Dex's?"

"Yes, that's correct." He smiled back at her as he stood up and put his gloves back on, then his robes.

"I remember that." She turned and punched a few more numbers onto her datapad before adding, "Talk to one of the medical droids down the hall. I'm ordering you a small dosage of stims to help ease the pain af −"

Claire was interrupted by the sudden unexpected kiss. It was a kiss that made her body tremble again. The cool, rough sensation of his gloved hand on her cheek was almost too much for her. The artificial lighting was blinding her. She thought her head was throbbing again, or that it was maybe the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, or maybe she was feeling faint again. But it was more than what Claire thought it would be. Suddenly he was everywhere, though he had not moved an inch. But she kissed him back, and it lacked something that their last kiss so long ago had. It was no longer a _chaste_ kiss.

It did not occur immediately to Claire, as she sheepishly smiled after they parted, each a little more awake than before. Her hands trembled and her cheeks flushed. It was overwhelming. The datapad fell onto the nearby bedside, and with mutual grins, they dove in again. Now it really did not feel chaste. His hand fell to her hips, and his body pressed her against the small bedside table. It felt like a rush of sensations, a tremor down her spine, a curling in her toes. Everything was warm, tender to the touch, and real. Pent up longing, frustration, and even a little anger, rushed into their passion. They parted again, but his face stayed close.

"I-I need to get back to work, Obi-wan."

He grinned again, and Claire laughed out of levity. "Oh, don't be smug about this."

"I'm being entirely serious, Claire." His grin made her a little skeptical.

"Are you?"

He kissed her again for good measure and reassurance.

"What time will you be done with your work here?" He asked as he laid a few small kisses on her neck.

She inhaled a little sharply, shrugged, but then added, "It varies, why do you ask?"

Claire watched the grin fade. Realization came over him, and he stepped away from her. It was a quite interesting, in her eyes, to see someone else caught up in the moment for once.

In fact, Claire had never seen a jedi lost for words before, and she had met plenty of jedi over the past four years. His expression sobered, and she regretted asking of his intentions.

"Nevermind, it doesn't matter−" from the corner of her eye, she saw someone else rushing into the room. Obi-wan's padawan. Now Claire sobered too. "I mean to say, General, that you'll need to take a few extra adrenals while those internal wounds help up. Otherwise, you'll be just fine." Claire picked up her datapad and nodded too Obi-wan as she made her way out of the room. She stopped in the doorway and without turning around, said, "Oh and by the way, do try to not hurt yourself anymore than you already have, will you? It's bad enough we're overrun with troopers. We don't need jedi getting wounded too now."

"I'll do what I can, Doctor Elrin." She smiled and made her way to her next patient, a little stronger for that matter.


	6. Chapter Six

I Have a Bad Feeling About This

Chapter 6

* * *

><p>"When can I open my eyes?"<p>

"Keep them closed for now. We're almost there."

Claire mumbled something under her breath, something about hating surprises, but found herself grinning nonetheless. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she let Obi-wan guide her through what was beginning to feel like a long maze with too many twists and turns.

"Where are we? Are we going in circles?"

"I apologize if it's making you a little dizzy, these halls can be a bit winding at times."

"Give me a hint." She asked as she slightly nudged what felt like his shoulder.

He laughed. "You will know soon enough. Trust me."

For Claire, it felt strange to be somewhere other than the medical center or her apartment. She found it difficult to admit aloud, but being somewhere other than a medical facility made her feel uncomfortable and out of her comfort zone. Although meandering through these halls with a friend, at least, lessened her discomfort by a margin.

"I'm always used to knowing what's ahead of me."

"Sometimes it can be good to look into the unknown."

"Are you talking from past experience?"

"I'll admit that I've taken plenty of leaps of faith before." He laughed again and the guiding hand on her shoulder gave her a light pat. "Trust me Claire, this will be a chance worth taking."

She smiled and tried to relax. With one of her senses obstructed temporarily, she tuned in with a heightened sense of awareness. She heard their footsteps, although light and unhurried, echo through the halls. She could smell something, something she was familiar with. It did not take long for her to realize what exactly this scent happened to be. Claire blushed. He was close to her, with his hand holding her steady. It felt like she was burning beneath her brown robes and beneath that, her favorite crimson dress, and beneath that, her skin.

"Just a few more steps and we're there."

The noise of their footsteps faded and was replaced by something much louder and more distinct. Claire thought it sounded like a stream or river. A few moments later, they stopped. She did not open her eyes until he requested.

"Now just listen for a few moments. Use your other senses, and tell me where you think you are."

She nodded and remained still. She tried to focus on the noises beyond the stream. There was a faint rustle of what she presumed to be leaves and little else to distinguish. There was a gentle breeze. From the low crunch noise, she knew that they were standing on grass. She could not hear the sounds of Coruscant anymore. As for smells, she recognized various floral scents. She felt the warmth of sunlight on her face.

"A garden of some sorts? It could only be a garden on Coruscant."

"Correct. You can open your eyes."

She opened her eyes and took a few steps away from him, remarking to herself of the beauty of her surroundings. She tilted her head towards Obi-wan and smirked.

"Do I get a prize for being correct?"

His mouth twitched into a coy grin as well. "I wouldn't be too quick to think that you've won anything, Claire."

She gaped at him and folded her arms. He gestured for her to follow him as he began to walk off further into the garden. They followed the small stream that flowed in a winding pattern and soon the green foliage surrounded us on all sides except above, allowing sunlight to still peer down upon them. There were a variety of plants she had never seen before, some with wide leaves and others with spiked nettles and flower buds at the tips. Color everywhere the head could turn and a stillness that unsettled her at first. There were no other creatures inside of this garden save for insects, but she spotted no other beings here.

"Where is this garden?"

"The Jedi Temple." He pointed to a pair of medium sized boulders nestled against the stream and by tall stalks of green vines and leaves. "Please, let's relax for a little while." His hand brushed against her own for a moment, once again guiding her forward.

She nodded and they both sat down on the rocks. He leaned forward and began removing his boots and the metal armor plating on his knees until his feet were free. She in turn followed suit and removed her own brown boots. They each took off their robes, folded them, and placed them at the base of the boulders beside their other belongings. They each slid down from the boulders and rested at the bank of the stream with their feet dipped into the cool rushing water.

"The Order's botanists maintain this garden. I'm sad to say it's one of the only ones of this size left on Coruscant."

"Do you come here often to meditate?"

"I used to." He shrugged and leaned forward with his elbow on his knee and his palm against his cheek. "But I don't have much time for meditation these days."

"Does meditation really help you?"

His eyes flashed upwards to look at her. "Well, that depends on how open one's mind is. My padawan does not care for it in the same manner that I and some other jedi do."

Claire drew small circles with her toes in the water, creating a small disturbance in the stream's flow. She smiled half-heartedly and tried to relax her stiff muscles and overall body. She wondered briefly if she could ever meditate in the same manner as him. Though she enjoyed silence to the point where she preferred it over the opposing rustle and chaos that encompassed her job and her life at times as a medical doctor, she found her mind overwhelmed with questions fueled by curiosity. She wanted to know what happened to him over the past two years.

"So was Dex able to help you find the manufacturer of that saber-dart?"

Obi-wan appeared surprised by her question, as if he had not expected her to ask that. "Well, ah, yes, he did. He told me that Kamino is also known for cloning technology. They were producing clones for the Republic. But I'm sure you know that."

"Of course, every soldier I take care of looks like the last." Claire drummed her fingers on her knee. "I'll admit I was a little creeped out by that. But you know, that feeling left quite quickly. It seems like they're all the same, but there's slight differences in each one."

"Yes, I agree. They're good people. Good friends." He smiled thoughtfully and then continued. "It was a bounty hunter's saber-dart that killed Amidala's almost assassin. He died during the battle on Geonosis. He was the template for the clone troopers. He had a son. An unaltered clone."

"Wow, that's... that's certainly not the outcome I was expecting."

Obi-wan leaned back against the boulders behind us, folded his hands across his chest, just above his belt, and closed his eyes. He quietly added, "It wasn't the outcome I had hoped for either."

Claire frowned and placed a hand on his. "I'm thankful that you're alive, Obi-wan."

He offered a small smile but it faded before she had a chance to enjoy its presence. She then turned her eyes away from him and back to the glittering water. A gentle breeze made the leaves rustle around them both, and it caught a few wispy strands of her own loose hair. The shadows played overhead, filtering the sun's rays. It was peaceful. Occasionally she turned her head and looked at him resting, seeing his chest rise and fall evenly, just to be reassured that he was very much alive.

She took this opportunity to look at him closely, to see the new trails of scars on his face and hands and to see the tired rings under his eyes. He looked the same. She saw the edge of bandages at his neckline, beneath his clothes, and lingering bruises there as well. He wore her gloves, which were worn and beginning to fray at the fingertips. She was thankful to have purchased the pair for him and was pleased to see that he really had used them. His fingertips were more calloused, as she had noticed from two days prior when they had met again in the med-center. She liked the way his fingers felt against her skin, she absently thought to herself. Part of her wanted to see him without his shirt, with his scars exposed. She wanted to know his story, and she knew that each one told a story of their own. Of course, Claire knew that this was not the appropriate place for that as well.

"I suppose it's only fair that I let you watch me rest, Claire." He stated with a low laugh.

She raised a brow and folded her arms. "Who says I was watching you rest?"

"I do." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. With her own playful grin, she reached into the stream in order to cup the water with her hands and splashed him with it. Obi-wan immediately sat up and feigned being hurt. He clutched at the soaked cloth and pretended to wince.

"Oh dear, looks like you got me."

"Yeah, looks like I did." She scooted closer and peered down at him.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

She winked. "We may have to operate."

He raised a brow and he tried not to grin back. "Oh dear, that sounds serious Doctor Elrin."

She nodded and leaned closer to him, so close that their eyes were only a finger's length away from one another on a horizontal line.

"Well," she added in a low whisper, "there's one other option if you don't want to operate. I could just confine you to bed rest."

"I'm not one to argue with a doctor's orders."

* * *

><p>"You know I never wanted to be a doctor."<p>

"Why do you know about medical technology then?"

Claire shrugged and her fingers drummed against the side of the speeder taxi as Obi-wan drove them through Coruscant's busy skyways towards her apartment. She stared out the speeder and watched the other people zooming by. A few moments later, she answered him.

"Because it was more practical and safe to learn about medicine than to try to make my hobby into a career."

He turned his head and glanced towards her. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to build droids. I wanted to do what my parents did. They worked for Czerka Arms, making both droids and weapons." She folded her arms and rested her head against the head-rest. "But Czerka has a bad reputation and they didn't want me to get involved in any of that. Plus, with the problems in the galaxy over the droid army that the Trade Federation was raising... they worried it would explode into a war, which it of course did. They didn't want me to get involved in that either. They put me through medical school on Coruscant. I complied, and once I finished and had my license, I worked for a medical firm for a little while."

They arrived at her apartment building and the appropriate floor. They split the taxi fee and the speeder zoomed off in order to be used by some other patron. It was only a short walk to her apartment. Once in front of her door, she placed her palm over the security panel and a moment later the door opened. They stepped inside only to be greeted by DA-R1, who was extremely surprised to see "the handsome jedi organic from before," as if he had never been gone for the past three years. The door shut automatically once they were inside and locked itself.

"Would you like anything?" Claire asked over her shoulder as she dropped her belongings onto the small table in her kitchen area. "I don't think I have anything with much substance, frankly. How about some tea?"

"Tea sounds delightful."

Not even a moment later, she saw from the corner of her eye her jedi guest getting ready to prepare hot water for her. She was about to open her mouth in protest, to insist that she could take care of it, but she decided against it. She knew that either way he would want to help. He glanced over his own shoulder and gestured for her to sit.

"So what happened after you joined the firm?" He asked when he sat down across from her with two cups of hot tea in front of them both a few minutes later.

Claire first took a sip of her tea. "Well, I hated it," she began. "Eventually I looked into free-lance work with an arms dealer and he managed to get me access to work in the underworld market. I still kept my day-job at the firm for as long as I needed to, but I took commissions for droid maintenance, speeder repairs, or I fixed weapons on occasion. My customers were usually the shadier type. I've kept a lot of those connections, hence my involvement with the Works. I've worked with mercenaries and smugglers in order to get the materials I could have never afforded on the legal markets. Mostly fair exchanges, you know." She left it at that and let him imply the rest. "After two years or so, I left the underworld market for the most part and the firm as well in order to apply for a job as a mechanic part-time at the Senate spaceport. I still kept some commission work on the side for my close, trustable clients. But after you left to go to Kamino and just before the war broke out, I switched to working at the Senate spaceport fulltime while there was an opportunity."

"You're a great mechanic and doctor, you do know that, right?"

Claire knew he was trying to reassure her, but she shrugged again. "It all depends, I guess. I know it's good work, and I know I'm helping a lot of people, soldiers and civilians, but I just... it's not who I am, deep down..."

Obi-wan stared at her, waiting for her to finish her thought before replying. She sighed.

"I'm suited for fixing droids and machines, not people."

He narrowed his brows. "Why do you say that?"

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked down. She didn't have an honest answer to that inquiry.

"What makes droids and people so different?"

She glanced up at him and raised a brow, questioning whether or not he was being serious. He pressed it further.

"You know I mean beyond the obvious. I mean when it comes to fixing them. What's so different?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but she found herself babbling instead. Ultimately, she conceded to him by saying that she didn't have a clear answer (or at least one she could admit to him).

"I don't think there are that many differences between droids and people nowadays, Claire. People have their programming and so do droids. You can reprogram both, though I suppose one takes longer than the other."

"I don't know, I guess sometimes I think that it's better for a machine to fix machines, rather than trying to have a machine fix a human."

He raised a brow, "You think you're a machine?"

Claire's fingers cupped the still steaming mug of tea. She shrugged. "I don't know, sometimes I feel like one."

He smiled sympathetically. "If you feel like a machine, I must be a robot."

"Well Obi-wan you're one of the most human-like robots I know." She pushed her chair back and stood up. She held her cup in her hands and walked towards her quarters in order to stand by her balcony. She heard his footsteps approaching behind her, even and unrushed. He stopped beside her and placed his two hands on the balcony's rail. They each looked out over the Coruscant skyline, which was becoming a favorite past-time of theirs.

"What planets did they send you to?" She asked in order to change the subject.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "Thule, Rhen Var, Jabiim, Raxus Prime, Kamino, two times more, Muunilinst, Rattatak, far too many dreadnaughts to recall by name... there's plenty more, Claire, but let's just say I've likely been to across the galaxy and back too many times to count."

"'The bigger the galaxy, the sweeter the homecoming.'" She heard his chuckle and then a sigh. "It's a Corellian proverb."

Obi-wan turned and leaned against the balcony's railing. He reached out and took Claire's empty cup and took it inside to sit on a table. When he returned, she found his expression difficult to read. He stood at the railing in silence and she accepted the silence, figuring that in that shared moment they could honor the fallen.

A few minutes later, he took her hand and squeezed it in his own. "When I heard that you were on Coruscant I'll admit I did seek you out at the med-center. I had heard you were working for the Republic's military, in medicine, and I wanted to see you."

She forced a strained smile and chose to dodge whatever he was trying to imply. "I'm sorry again about the attitude."

"I understand, don't worry about it." He laughed. "In fact, I enjoyed it. Your humor I mean."

Claire flushed and coughed out a nervous laugh. "Ugh, _my_ humor. If only more of those clone troopers had _my_ sense of humor. I think we could have won the war just based on my humor alone."

"A battle of wits?"

"I guess it would be more of a _war_ of wits. The Sith would have _dark_ humor."

"That's a terrible pun and you know it."

She cracked a smile. As their laughs faded and almost silence enclosed around them, they exhaled and caught the other's glance momentarily before returning to gaze back at Coruscant. Claire felt the same sense of calm and stillness that she had missed for so long.

"Do you think this war will be over soon? Or do you think it'll only get worse?" She abruptly asked as it crossed her mind. "I mean, you're on the front lines. You're a general. You likely have an opinion."

He folded his arms and shrugged. "Many of the other jedi masters fear that it's not going to be over any time soon."

"But what do you think?"

"What's that other proverb? 'It's always darkest before the dawn'?"

"Has the war hit rock bottom yet?"

He tilted his head and frowned. "I'd like to think we're on the road to fixing this problem, but I fear−" he cut himself off, paused, and then ran a hand over his face, stopping at his chin. "I don't honestly know, Claire."

She nodded. "You know, they, the other troopers and many other officials and whatnot, they call you 'The Negotiator.'"

"I always try to make peace before I make war. Unfortunately it doesn't always go in that order." He laughed darkly. "Anakin and I have the gall to call it 'aggressive negotiations.'"

She rolled her eyes. "You jedi and your euphemisms."

"Anakin was promoted," he stated flatly, though she could hear a faint hint of pride in his tone, "he's a jedi-knight now."

"You should have told me in the med-center. I could have congratulated him. I knew that he was also a general in the army, but I didn't know that."

"He's grown quite a fair deal." Obi-wan said thoughtfully. "We've taught each other so much over the years."

"Did he finally learn to be patient?"

"Yes and no," he added a quick laugh, "but he's improved significantly."

"I'm very glad to hear that."

Claire smiled and closed her eyes. She was happy to hear of his success with his padawan turned jedi-knight and close friend. She knew it had bothered him those few years ago, but now she saw and heard differently. She imagined it to be relief that steadied his brows.

"Anakin... he's my brother." He paused and Claire turned to look at him again. "For Anakin, there is nothing more important to him than friendship. He's the most loyal man I've ever met," a low sigh, and Claire realized that he wasn't talking directly to her, but saying the words aloud for himself as well, "he's loyal beyond reason, really. In fact, abstract ideas like peace don't mean much to him. He's loyal to _people_, not to _principles_. And he expects loyalty in return. He'll stop at nothing to save me, for example−and we've saved each other countless times, it's almost embarrassing, really−because he thinks I would do the same for him..."

She waited for him to finish, but he trailed off.

"He _knows_ I would do the same for him," he finished.

"I'd like to meet him someday." She blinked and corrected herself. "I mean, well, officially meet him. I know I sort of met him at the hangar that day, but that was really unexpected."

"Perhaps you can, he's on Coruscant as well."

Without saying anything else, she smiled and took his hand. They both caught the glittering lights of Coruscant's nightlife in their eyes one last time that evening, and with a shy smile, Claire and Obi-wan walked into her quarters. She knew it was late into the evening and they were both exhausted after the day's outings. She saw him open his mouth to say one last thing to her with half-lidded eyes, but she placed a finger against his lips. Like three years before, she could only see the outline of his face at this angle and some finer details of his face in the low, faint light that trickled in from outside.

She hoped that he could not see the solemn, sobered expression on her face and the frown. It seemed that every instance they shared in close contact ended up in him having to leave for an extended period of time, to save the galaxy as she rightfully and obligingly understood. She was more than lonely in their world of chaos, and like a conditioned subject, she waited for the truth of their reality to resurface. She waited for him to tell her the verdict, to tell her how long he would be away this time. Even then, she knew, the chance of him coming back (though as much as she trusted his skills and his stark ability to survive), were slimming as the problems worsened. In the dark corner of her mind, she knew it was only a matter of time. She waited for the realization to come over them both, for the line to be crossed and the awkward gravity of their situation to settle in.

No matter how much he trusted his feelings and his grasp over them, she refused to let either of them become unfocused. She understood duty now. She understood what it meant: self-sacrifice. She felt guilty for wanting to tell him just how she felt. He did not belong to her.

But Claire assumed wrong this time. This time silence was not enough.

They moved to sit at the edge of her bed, side by side, still holding each other's hand. The shadows played against their faces, drawing sharp lines on each of their faces from the light and the dark.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the speeder port that day when we met up at Dex's? When it was raining?" He asked in a quiet voice that was barely audible over the commercial noises in the distance.

She smiled to herself half-heartedly. "You mean when I made a complete fool of myself?"

He laughed briefly. "If you made a fool of yourself, surely I looked like a droid with its programming gone haywire."

"Again with the robot motif?"

He only returned the smile in response to her quip, and then continued. "You said to me something along the lines of extending a hand to me, holding it in what I believe you stated to be a 'tenuous moment,' and in the recollection of that moment, I would gain strength from it."

"That sounds familiar," she paused, "and correct, I suppose."

"You don't know how right you were with that suggestion." He squeezed her hand. She saw the light catch the upper-half of his face and she studied his blue eyes, attempting to try to clearly make out what he was saying before he had even said it. "But you left one thing out, I'm afraid."

She blinked. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"You thought I would only need one short, brief, 'tenuous moment.'" He offered a small smile. "The truth is I would like more than that, Claire."

Claire was about to protest, but he continued to speak instead since she hesitated. "Please, let me finish." She nodded cautiously. "I want to share these moments with you, I want to give them to you in return, even if they are far and few in between. But spending those moments with you is a gift I thought I didn't deserve back then, despite being so thankful for them at the same time. For awhile I thought it was selfish of me to let you have such feelings and not be able to return them physically. I wanted to tell you everything that night before I left for Kamino, believe me, I did."

"The jedi have a duty to the Republic and to others. I understood that and I still do, Obi-wan."

"We both have a duty and we both know what we have to do. We both know the consequences of war, we both know it's unpredictable. We both know we have to stay focused, no matter what." He paused and ran his other hand through his hair and she caught a glimpse of the human-like confusion and fear in his eyes. "We're strong people, Claire. We're patient. We know our limits. Strong robots," he shifted his body so that he faced her completely.

His free, un-joined hand reached up and caressed her cheek with faint touches. Her eyes widened.

"But robots have feelings too, and though you say you're not good at fixing people, well, know that you've fixed _me_, the most human-like robot you say you've ever met."

Claire sat stunned by his words. It took her a moment to recollect her thoughts and shake herself out of the momentary daze.

"I... I don't even know what to say." She paused and her own hand touched the one on her cheek. She pulled it away and held it gently. "Hearing you say that means so much to me. I'm honored."

He raised a brow playfully and quipped, "Claire, I'm not a senator talking to you formally."

"Well... you, I just," she laughed and felt her cheeks burn. Her eyes fell away from his and to their joined hands. "I just can't believe this."

"Why? Are you afraid?"

She immediately looked up and grinned. "No, no, of course not. I'm not afraid at all."

"Neither am I."


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Author's Note**: Uhm, so, sorry for the wait!_

* * *

><p><strong>I Have A Bad Feeling About This<strong>

Chapter 7

His hands fell to the shoulder of her dress and slid the thin, smooth, twinkling fabric off of her skin, exposing the flesh beneath. His thumb brushed her collarbone, pressing firmly at different points.

A juxtaposition of laughs and gasps as they exclaimed that they would share both duty and burden.

In the end she laid beside him, staring up at the dark ceiling while he slept. Their intertwined fingers mirrored the bond she knew they shared. Two robots sharing programming, two humans sharing both mind and body.

It was the first time she felt whole in a long while.

* * *

><p>Claire woke up after several restful hours of sleep. She slept in, something she never did. Upon coming to wakefulness, she didn't feel bothered knowing that her shift would begin late into the evening. She stretched and yawned in the bright morning light. The city was already bustling with life. She turned her head and saw Obi-wan's cloak folded neatly at the edge of her bed. A rush of happiness overcame her-he had not left. It meant that he wanted to spend the night and morning after with her, and it lifts a weight off of her shoulders. The worry that perhaps what they had shared was wrong rested in the back of her mind no longer. She didn't want matters to become awkward between them. But these results proved differently.<br>Without wasting another minute, she slid out of bed and searched for her nightgown that had fallen to the ground. Upon finding it, she dressed herself quickly and added her olive green robe on top.

As she left her room, Claire heard the high-pitched chatter of DA-R1, and the low laughs of Obi-wan. She saw Obi-wan sitting at her table with a mug of caf in his hands. Her droid was off to the side conducting its weekly recalibrations, updates, and a system's diagnostic exam with Claire's main computer terminal.

Upon hearing her arrival, the jedi turned to face her in the chair and said, "Good morning, Claire. I made us some caf and there's some breakfast if you're feeling hungry."

Claire flushed but still smiled and nodded.

He gestured to her droid. "Dari was just telling me about your planned updates for her system."

"Oh yeah?" She lazily replied as she approached her kitchen counter, poured herself a mug, and served herself some of the small breakfast he made for her: puffcakes. She then sat down and took a few sips. "They're just minor updates. Whenever there's an error, you have to program a patch, as they're called, to fix it. Sometimes it requires multiple patches to fix one problem."

"But more efficient than building a new droid?"

"Of course. Plus, I like Dari just as she is for the most part. She handles my apartment well while I'm gone and makes for good company." She shrugs. "But the patches take time, and for the most part, she just needs weekly recalibrations. No updates. In fact I haven't updated her since I joined the military. Too busy."

"I understand, Master." Dari chirped.

"But someday, at least." He smiled.

"Someday," she smiled back.

"Would you happen to be available tonight in the early evening?"

"Shift ends at about nineteen hundred hours, I don't need to be back until much later into the evening. Why do you ask?"

"I mentioned how my friend is on Coruscant. If you're interested I can invite him to dinner."

"Sure, of course. I've wanted to meet your partner in crime for a long while. Well, formally meet him. And in better circumstances. I still grimace every time I think about that day in the hangar."

"Your work ethic's improved significantly."

"Ha ha, very funny." She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm kidding. I'm still grimacing over the fact that I Iet him start to fix the cruiser."

"Oh c'mon, you could be a little more sympathetic. How about a real embarrassing moment master jedi."

"I have plenty to grimace about from my own youth, really. I look back on my years as a padawan and sometimes I ask myself how I ever thought doing this or that was a good idea."

"Oh, boyish antics, right?"

"Of course." He grinned.

She nodded and stood up from the table, taking her dishes back to the counter. She cleaned them off and placed them in the dryer to dry.

Claire hesitated, but found the appropriate courage to ask, "How would your master feel about this?"

"It's certainly much more meaningful and certainly not antics." He smiles thoughtfully as he recalls his fallen mentor. "I learned sometime later after his death that he knew love but lost it due to death. But I know it made him happy-that the pain was worth it, that the happiness he had shared with her, those memories, were to be cherished. Of course, it took him a few years to understand that. Qui-Gon would have liked you."

"I imagine you're almost the spinning image of him."

He laughed. "In some ways more than others."

Claire nodded and took a deep breath. She leaned against the counter and asked, "So this... this is okay? These feelings, what we did?"

"As I said before, Claire, I don't feel any regret in what we did. In fact it makes me quite happy."

She smiled. "We'll be responsible about it." She turned to Obi-Wan and stared, "Well I'm going to go get cleaned up for work and you can call your friend. When I come back I want to hear a real embarrassing story from you."

"Sounds good to me."

Claire walked away from her kitchen, leaving Obi-wan and Dari to handle their own affairs.

* * *

><p>By the time Claire returned to her kitchen area, clean and dressed for work at the Senate's Medical Center, she immediately noticed how Obi-Wan's expression had become more somber. He didn't notice her when she stepped into the room, as he chose to meditate while he waited for her, and it wasn't until Dari sweetly greeted her that he jolted out of his own thoughts.<p>

"Oh, I'm sorry-I was just-"

"Meditating," she said as she quirked up a brow. "Is something wrong? You look anxious."

"Anakin and I have been summoned to meet with the Jedi Council."

She nodded. "Oh? Over what? War matters?"

"I'm afraid it's something worse than that, given Master Windu's tone." He stood up and collected himself before her. "I have to get going."

"Of course, I have to be going as well. You can tell me about if you want on our way out."

"It's just hunches and bad feelings, that's all. Nothing truly tangible."

"If you've got a bad feeling about something it's better to at least consider it rather than ignore it." She said once she returned from gathering her own belongings. "They're there for a reason. When your stomach growls it's because you're hungry. When your gut's clenching there's plenty reason for it."

They both headed out the door and Claire sealed her apartment quickly by punching in the locking code. She then turned her attention back to the jedi.

"That's what I'm afraid of. My hunch being right."

Claire blinked and took his arm gently. "What's got you like this? You seem really shaken."

"I-I just can't believe the Council would ask something like this of me. It's against my integrity. It's against Anakin's."

"You have a right to speak up. You don't have to do something you aren't comfortable with."

He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm uncomfortable for Anakin's sake. They want to place him in a dangerous position-for not only himself but for the relationship between the Chancellor and the Order, and more than ever we need the Republic's support." He sighs. "The Coucil wants Anakin to spy on the Chancellor. To become his representative with a seat on the Council itself. They are forcing him to take a stance: the Order or the Senate."

Claire half-heartedly smiled and released his arm. "So much has changed. I remember when you hated politics."

"I still do; I simply have realized how important they really are, and how regardless of sentiment we have a duty to serve the Republic."

As they approached the speeder port, she mused about a question to herself and anxiously debated whether or not to ask it. She purchased a speeder and drove this time.

Finally, as they zoomed through Coruscant's highways, she found the courage.

"I want to ask you something but I don't want to offend."

Obi-Wan glanced towards her and grinned half-heartedly. "A controversial question?"

"You could call it that."

"I do partake in aggressive negotiations." She was somewhat pleased to see some form of mirth and amusement light his eyes, if only momentarily.

"Oh yes," she said with a wink tossed his way, "I do believe I'm aware of your tactics."

"Ask away."

"Do you think, if the Council had the option, that they should be the leaders of the Republic? That the Jedi should be our leaders in all forms-not just protectors?"

He brought his hand to his beard and scratched it, eventually leaving it there to cup his chin. "Perhaps at one time I would have said 'yes' to a question like that."

"And now you think differently?"

"Certainly. The Jedi and the Republic need each other. Neither one can do it all on their own. I may hate the charades and magic tricks some politicians use to take advantage of their position and their constituency, but historically, success has always inevitably arrived with the Jedi serving the Republic."

"Would you feel differently if there were more of you?"

He flashed his eyes toward her. "The loss on Geonosis was devastating, as I'm sure you know. The Clone Wars have been difficult for everyone."

Claire nodded. She paused in hesitation, however, as the more prominent-and more controversial-question chewed at the nerves in her mind.

"There's something else?"

She laughed, if somewhat forced. "Are you sure you aren't a mind-reader?"

"Positive." He pointed off-handedly to her grip on the handles of the speeder and then to her eyes.

"I know what you look like when you're uncomfortable about something. Anxious. Granted you are much more difficult to read at times when it comes to catching the tell-tale signs;" he paused. "One needs to know how to pick up on the subtleties of body language when they engage in negotiations and diplomacy."

Claire frowned and forced herself to loosen her grip.

"You can ask me anything."

She was not sure if she could, let alone should. It was a partially selfish question. One half brought on by the reminders of the real universe they lived in.  
>"Do you ever wonder what life would be like without the Jedi? And the Sith of course. If the Force didn't exist. If everyone was just..."<p>

"Normal?"

"_No_," she quickly stated. She shook her head and lowered her shoulders as she made a turn to the Jedi Temple. She sighed and returned her attention fully to the highway as she made her way closer to his destination, in silence now.

Claire didn't regret her question, but simply regretted her way of expressing it. She did not think any differently of him for being. Jedi. She admired him for it, for what the Force had given him, and she didn't want him to believe for one second that she found him abnormal.

Upon arriving at the Jedi Temple's speeder port, Obi-Wan turned to her and said,

"I think there would still be war, still conflict that tore people, societies, and ultimately civilizations apart. The battle would be over something else entirely."

"I'm sorry if my question came out wrong. I don't mean to dismiss the Jedi. For everything you've been given you've given back in turn, if not more. You've sacrificed." Claire lowered her gaze, after having a certain difficult thought cross her mind.

"Jedi are no more extraordinary than those who wield a blaster, a vibro-blade, a bowcaster, a syringe, a welding tool, or the power of their own voice. We all use our talents and strengths. It brings balance."

Obi-Wan shuffled in his seat, gathering himself, and was about to open the door to leave, when she touched his uncovered hand. He turned to look back at Claire. She took this opportunity to lean forward and pull him into a kiss. With a quick maneuvering of his own hand, he ran a hand through her hair and then cupped her cheek. When they parted they shared a small smile, a good luck to one another, and the expressed acknowledgement that they would holo one another to make plans for much later into the evening. He left the speeder and Claire zoomed off, heading to the Senate Tower.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note**: _Thanks for the kind reviews! The last portion of this chapter is T+, but it's not at all explicit, and I was inspired by SerendipityAEY (in fact my quick motivation is thanks to her!). You could call this... the calm before the storm. There are some canon events I cannot ignore. Fixed a few continuity errors. _

* * *

><p><strong>I Have A Bad Feeling About This<strong>

Chapter 8

"So I told that soldier that if he wants to get better he's going to have to stop making bets he's clearly losing." She laughed while curling a wavy strand of her hair. "Please tell me you aren't that reckless."

Obi-Wan smirked and thumbed the brim of his mug. "I don't need a bet in order to make a reckless move in combat."

"You're terrible. I'm sure you drive the field medics mad."

"Oh they're even gutsier."

"I highly doubt that."

He shifted forward with a growing grin. He shook his head. "Really Claire, I'm not kidding. I had a medic once jump onto a crumbling bridge in order to give a soldier a stim shot of adrenaline that initially saved the man's life, lifted the man up over his shoulder, and then jumped back onto the secure ledge. It was one of the bravest things I've ever seen."

Claire grabbed her mug of cooled down caf and said over the brim, "You sure the medic didn't take a shot of adrenaline as well?"

Obi-Wan smiled. Companionable silence fell between them as they waited still for Anakin Skywalker.

"I do apologize, Claire, I had not expected him to be this late." He said with a remorseful frown. They each ran on tight schedules, and he knew that she had a job to return to in the later evening.

"I'm sure he's just being held up by something important."

He nodded, but Claire could see the slight worry lines in his brow, and from that she knew Anakin often was not late to meet-ups with his master. She settled more comfortably into the booth at Dex's Diner, and she flicked off a puff-ball of lint from her lab coat. She was dressed in her work clothes, as she herself had been running late and was unable to stop by her appartment to change (though had she known Anakin would be late, she would have changed). Her stomach suddenly growled, and she tried to cover it up by commenting on how lovely of a day it was.

"Was it? Unfortunately I was inside most of the day."

"Yeah," she shrugged. She smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't out much either, I only saw passing glimpses, but you know, I had to say something in order to cover the sound of my growling stomach." She glanced over to the window and sighed. Coruscant's night life was in full swing despite the early hor."It's always a pretty evening at least."

"I love the lights."

"Oh yes, me too. There's just something about neon signs and the headlights of speeders that differs from any other non-city-planet out there."

"On Naboo there's a hill deep inside the forest. At night, if you go there, you can see dozens of fireflies appear. The lights remind me of that."

"I've never been to Naboo. What's it like?"

"I was there a few times during my training as a padawan." He frowned momentarily, and he did not speak until the wave of solemnity passed. "It's... It's like a temperate, tropical version of Alderaan. Instead of thick pine forests there are tropical ones. Green meadows. Large, beautiful lakes. An entire species lives underwater there. The people are friendly. It's... I do recommend traveling there, if you get the chance."

"I'll add it to my list of future adventures. Perhaps we'll get the chance to travel, if you'd like, once the wars over."

It didn't matter that it was likely impossible. Worse yet, she knew deep down she'd never travel beyond the Core Worlds on her own whim. But it felt good to fantasize.

"I like to romanticize the idea that you have entertaining journeys."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "There's never a dull moment." He smiled. "What else is on your list of adventures, if you don't mind me asking out of my own−"

Claire cleared her throat, politely interrupting him, and pointed over his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Anakin quickly approaching their table. Claire stood, smiling broadly, and extended a hand to the younger jedi dressed in dark colored robes. He looked older, with longer hair, and a few scars from the inevitable wear and tear of war.

"Claire Elrin, it's a pleasure to meet the famous general Anakin Skywalker."

"We're famous now, Obi-Wan?" Anakin smirked. "I only thought they heard of our exploits on backwater planets in the Outer-Rim in the cantinas."

"Oh yes, we're finally get the publicity we rightfully deserve. Did you hear they call us the aggressive negotiators?"

"Still using that phrase, huh?" Anakin laughed and shook her extended hand. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to being recognized in that manner."

"Just don't let it go to your head." Obi-Wan quipped.

"Ms. Elrin, my master has spoken frequently of you."

"Really, now?" She raised a brow and grinned. "I had no idea I was the subject of his gossip," she teased as she sat down again. She winked towards Obi-Wan. "I hope he speaks of me fondly."

Anakin turned to his master, bowed his head, uttered a brief apology for his lateness, and simply added, "The Chancellor had much to discuss."

The humor left Obi-Wan's eyes as he nodded and moved further into the booth for Anakin to sit beside him. Claire glanced between the two of them repeatedly in those first few moments, despite the mirth. She tried with all of her might to reach out to Obi-Wan through whatever subtle way she could. Their discussion earlier in the day about the Chancellor and the anxiety brought about by such a decision proved to have merit. Anakin was never late, she knew, and the Chancellor had kept him, but over what, exactly, was the question. Coincidence? She knew better, and she knew that perhaps Obi-Wan was right to worry.

Claire let Obi-Wan and Anakin guide their conversation after they ordered their dinner. She didn't want to mistakenly bring up a sensitive topic, such as congratulating Anakin for his promotion to a seat on the council; she knew there was conflict over that decision, especially given the fact he had not achieved the rank of master.

After their food arrived, Anakin asked about DA-R1, much to her happiness because it was safer territory.

"I built her long before the war, when I was still doing some commission work as a mechanic while at the same time working at the Senate hangars, fixing starships on occasion to make up for my fellow coworkers." Claire thoughtfully looked out the window and proudly stated, "She is a domestic assistant droid, my first successful prototype." She took a few bites of her food and then continued, facing then both. "I'm not home often, and I needed something to tend to the cleaning and whatnot."

"Smart to build it yourself over purchasing one."

"Well you know the first time I met Obi-Wan I told him that I don't trust salesmen any better than I trust politicians."

Anakin looked up at her then, with a solemn frown on his face, and Claire wanted to punch herself for letting that comment slip.

"Granted," she said with an embarrassed flush, "I've met more admirable politicians as of late." She needed to rectify the situation. "But I won't take back the fact that all salesmen are cheap."

It seemed Anakin couldn't subdue the grin from spreading across his face. "I'll agree with you on that."

Claire sighed in relief and smiled. As she and Obi-Wan continued eating their food, Anakin explained the story of how he met Obi-Wan and Qui-gon Jinn, which involved a Hutt, a cheap scrap-metal salesman, and a pod-race. It amazed her how eventful their lives were, and each story made her eagerly wanting of more. Unfortunately, there were several gaps in his story, gaps that she presumed were parts of the story that were more delicate and private in nature, and that was understandable in the end, given how much of a stranger she truly was to Anakin.

"I was building a protocol droid myself at the time. C3-P0. I didn't have the time or the money to put gold plating over his wiring before we left again for Naboo."

"It almost sounds like you were born with a hyper-screwdriver in one hand and a welding tool in the other. You must have been quite young."

"Learned quickly from said salesman." He finished his food and then asked while wiping his mouth, "And yourself?"

"My parents worked for Czerka on Corellia. I wanted to go into their profession, but they wouldn't let me because of Czerka's impeccable reputation and the looming threat of war. Hence the medical school. Wasn't the top in my class by far but I got by. Worked in a firm till I didn't need to, and switched to doing what I love as a profession."

"That's what's important. Following your goals and being patient."

Obi-Wan's comment seemed more like a subtly packaged, mini life-lesson for Anakin. In fact, it became clear how Obi-Wan's personality changed to various degrees in the presence of his pupil. The aura of responsibility, duty, seriousness, and sobriety contrasted the other side that was much more relaxed, borderline sarcastic, and expressive. Obi-Wan wore the mantle of master and teacher with duty and clarity, but in some ways Claire wondered if he saw it more as an obligation. Yet these first impressions and assumptions were biased and case-specific. She knew that Obi-Wan's taciturn participation in this meeting was a result of his worry about Anakin and the Chancellor. It wasn't the clearest of pictures of their relationship.

"How did you meet Obi-Wan, if you don't mind me asking?"

Claire blinked and shrugged. "Oh, I don't mind at all. We met at the Outlander Club. Originally I planned to go with some friends, but they were called into work and I went alone. I met him and it was just pleasant company. Then of course we met again at the Senate Hangar when your ship broke down."

"Oh that's right, I remember. You were late."

Obi-Wan was about to say something but Claire beat him to it. She stiffened and laughed nervously, attempting to shrug off the comment. "Yeah, trust me I'm not proud of the work ethic I sometimes had. It's improved significantly, seriously. I wouldn't be where I am if it hadn't."

Claire swallowed hard, and hoped her response did not sound defensive. Her congenial smile faded partially as she lifted her mug of caf to her lips. The moment's pause reminded her to give him the benefit of the doubt; there was plenty on his mind, she imagined with the war, and his new position only added onto it.

They fell into a conversation about Anakin's and Obi-Wan's travels throughout the war, to places such as Kamino and Geonosis, Endor, and more. She especially liked the story about the arena fight on Geonosis. It was humorous and entertaining, and though Geonosis had been a terrible setback for the Republic, she was glad to hear even a glimmer of humor.

"Padme managed to sneak her way out of the chains before either of us. You should have seen Obi-Wan's deadpan."  
>Claire smirked and leaned her cheek into her palm. "I'll await the day in which I see this glorious expression." She paused and straightened. "But I have to ask, who's Padme? Are you referring to Senator <em>Padme<em> Amidala?"

"A good friend of ours," Obi-Wan stated quickly. "Once queen of Naboo."

"_Ohhh_," her smirk widened. "So that's why you two are soft towards the politicians. You know one of them."

"We actually know quite a few Claire." Obi-Wan chuckled.

"She's not like the others." Anakin said proudly. "She cares about her people. About doing the right thing."

"Well I'm glad to hear that. It's reassuring to know. I'm sorry if I sounded at all cynical."

"Padme's special. She's brilliant as a politician and leader. She can shoot a blaster with perfect aim too." Anakin smiled fondly and rubbed the pads of his fingers over the back of his hand. His voice lowered, and perhaps became hesitant. "She's my best friend."

Claire clasped her own hands and nodded. There was something about the way Anakin looked when he mentioned and discussed Padme. It seemed so thoughtful and admiring. She didn't want to make mountains out of dirt mounds, but she even dared to think his feelings ran deeper. Either way, she held no position to judge, but she wondered if her own feelings were as open and obvious as Anakin's.

"I'll have to tune into the news more often, maybe I'll catch a glimpse of her in a senatorial debate." Claire paused and the memories in her brain sprang to life. "Wait a minute, is she the woman whom you both were defending a few years ago? Nearly assassinated? Who's near assassin was assassinated via a poison dart?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"You mean you were the one who directed my master to Kamino? I have to thank you for that." A flash of anger distorted his features. "I was glad that bounty hunter got what was coming to him in the end."

Claire blinked, flashed her eyes toward Obi-Wan, and sighed. The worry lines clearly crossed his face as his brows narrowed.

"Even for Senator Amidala, that's inappropriate and callous to say. You know Jedi do not take life casually nor for revenge."

Claire looked away, back towards the window, because the conversation became awkward. The topic of Senator Amidala's near assassination was a sensitive topic, clearly. She was not used to treading this carefully in a conversation. The clear tension between these two made her tense.

It was unfortunate that the earlier decisions coincided with her meeting Anakin. It wasn't a good reflection of his character, and he was distracted. Claire knew distraction, and Anakin's spirit and mind were elsewhere, perhaps worrying about something more important than this awkward conversation. In fact, she concluded, it almost reminded her of herself, upon thinking of Obi-Wan-

Claire's holocom began to vibrate and ring. She nearly jumped out of her seat, and Claire apologized profusely for having to leave temporarily in order to privately take her holocall.

When Claire returned to their table, she saw Obi-Wan and Anakin more quiet and still tense. She swallowed and announced that her call had been the head nurse at the medical center, and they needed her to return early for her evening shift. It was both a relief and a disappointment. She wanted to spend more time with Obi-Wan, especially after having broken barriers between them. She paid Dex at the register for her dinner separately.

"Well," Obi-Wan smiled half-heartedly, "we won't keep you Claire."

Anakin and Obi-Wan slid out from the booth. Anakin shook her hand again but it was more out of necessity than actual congeniality. She met Obi-Wan's eyes and hoped her smile was subtle enough of a message and invitation for him to come see her later that evening, _if_ possible of course.

They walked with her out of the restaurant after paying for their food.

"Have a good evening you two."

"And the same for you, Ms. Elrin."

"Force be with you," Obi-Wan softly stated.

They parted after that. As Claire walked away, heading towards the speeder port, she wondered if they would talk about her, and if so, what further comments would be made. First impressions were everything, afterall.

* * *

><p>When Claire returned home late, her feet were sore and she couldn't wait to climb into her 'fresher. DA-R1 greeted her with a typical question of "How are you master?" to which Claire replied with a groan.<p>

It had been a long day, and it seemed like so much had changed over its course. The dynamics of her relationship with Obi-Wan were worth addressing. Being with him was a light, a great gift from something more powerful than her. It made her happy despite all the strange fringe details, and she knew she could go through anything if it meant seeing him again.

As Claire stepped into the fresher for a shower, the worries and weights pressing down on her shoulders melted away with the hot steam. She told herself to forget about her stressful, fast-paced work for just a few minutes. This evening's work was particularly more difficult physically and emotionally than before: a clone soldier died on the operating table due to heart failure.

It wasn't the fact that death had not touched her in some way. Her mother had died during her years at medical school from an illness, and she could empathize with loss. But that was the root of the matter: these clone soldiers did not have family, or at least family in the ordinary sense. After losing that soldier she wondered if there would be anyone to call, anyone to notify of his death. There _had_ to be someone. When it had appeared that there might be no one according to the nurse practitioner, Claire took the extra effort while on her break to ask other patients who were clone soldiers if they knew the deceased, who went by the name of Crazy Jack. After asking several, she finally found one, his best friend in fact.

These two soldiers looked exactly alike, but as Claire sat by this man's bedside in order to gently break the news, it became strangely beautiful how different they were in actuality. It was touching to hear of how Crazy Jack had been this man's nickname, and he had been kind enough to explain its origin story. It was hard not to cry as she listened.

Yet the fresher managed to take away that pain and instead she focused on the better fact that Crazy Jack would be remembered and that his friend would continue to fight in his honor.

As she stepped out of the fresher again, Claire came to the conclusion that this war was taking too much out of everyone.

* * *

><p>When Obi-Wan knocked at her door not long after her shower, it was just what the <em>literal<em> doctor ordered. As soon as he entered her apartment she was in his arms, and they holding one another. DA-R1, the kind, almost sentient droid she was programmed to be closed the door for them both and offered to make tea, after exclaiming how delightful it was to see the handsome organic again ("because it warms [her] circuits.")

"How about it, would you like something warm? It was certainly chilly went I left the med-center."

"Sure, I won't turn down a cup."

As DA-R1 hurried off to the kitchen to make their pot of hot water, Claire helped Obi-Wan settle down by removing his cloak and draping it over one of her kitchen's chairs. Her fingers brushed his collarbone, lingered, and fluttered away. It was too easy to tease the stoic Jedi with such touches, and it became clear when he stopped her from leaving to help her droid. He pulled her towards his body with a gentle tug, and once she was close enough his hands slowly slid over her back.

"I missed you," he whispered against her ear.

Claire smiled and licked her lips. "I'm glad you came. The feeling's mutual."

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

"C'mon," she said, taking his hands and guiding him toward her room. "I don't know about you but my feet are screaming, and I wouldn't mind a squishy pillow under my head."

* * *

><p>DA-R1 brought in their tea just as Claire walked back into her room after having unceremoniously shoved Obi-Wan into her 'fresher. She left the lights dim, it was late in the evening after all, time for winding down, and she wanted a break from the bright fluorescent lights of the med-center.<p>

"Bluefrint Kintle tea," her droid said as she placed the tray with a teapot and two cups onto her bed. "As you requested from your list."

"Wow," her eyes lit up. "I can't believe you actually found it!"

"It took some searching in several stores in the market area, but I only find the finest goods for my master."

"He'll be especially happy, I'll remind him to thank you."

DA-R1 left afterwards, and Claire waited a few moments for their tea to steep. She could already smell the strange, exotic smell, but she didn't mind trying something new for the sake of entertaining a guest properly.

As she poured her cup, Obi-Wan entered her room, dressed in fresh, borrowed clothes of hers, with wet hair, and immediately turned his attention toward the teapot.

"Is that Bluefruit Kintle?"

She nodded shyly. "Yes, it is. I've never tried it before, and I heard you mention it once to Dari. I figured that if, well, you decide to stop by more often, that maybe," she shrugged and poured him a cup as he walked over to her, "I don't know, I should stock up on at least a few of the things you like."

He took the tea, took a sip, and his blue-grey eyes shined. "That's very thoughtful of you."

They then sat upright on her bed, legs crossed, backs against her headboard, and shared parts of their day. They shared the banal and the important. He told her about his meeting with a fellow master of his order, Yoda, regarding Anakin and that precarious situation. She listened sympathetically, and then he returned the favor when she confessed to losing her patient, Crazy Jack, and how difficult it had been to tell his friend.

"It's not that I haven't experienced death in some shape or form. It almost seems like it's unfortunately inevitable nowadays. But it just dawned on me today that these troopers don't have family beyond their fellow soldiers. They don't have spouses or children or brothers and sisters or even relatives waiting for them back home after this war is said and done." Claire sighed and rubbed her tired eyes in the attempt to remove the wetness from her eyes. "It's just a terribly sad thing to think about," her voice lowered in order to prevent it from cracking, "I'm just thankful there is someone who's going to remember him, to miss him, and to continue fighting for him."

He squeezed her hand and nodded in agreement. It was hard to not think about what she would do if Obi-Wan had been in the place of Crazy Jack. It was something she had worried about on a daily basis for the past three years−of whether Obi-Wan would make it through the next battle. And even with him here beside her, safe from harm's way, even if for just a few hours, it was enough to give her a sense of selfish relief. She felt guilty for thinking it, even in passing moments, but she wanted him to come out of this war intact. Some days it had taken every bit of strength and every fiber of her willpower to remind herself that Obi-Wan wasn't solely hers. Yet she knew deep down it wasn't all that selfish of a sentiment; everyone had someone to worry about in the end.

Claire wiped her eyes one more time and then smiled half-heartedly.

"But enough of that. I'll fully admit that I'm desperate to know what Anakin thinks of me."

"I'm afraid he didn't express much after we parted from you. In fact him and I parted early because the Chancellor wanted to speak with him again."

"Do you feel any less anxious about that?"

"The bad feeling's still there."

Claire nodded and squeezed his hand back. "Well, I guess you've got a few hours to not think about that."

After the clear invitation on her behalf, the tea and bad feelings about this or that were cast aside if not temporarily forgotten.

* * *

><p>They laid undressed together underneath the soft, warm sheets with her head resting against his chest. Her breathing was still coming out in ragged gasps, and she closed her eyes as her face flushed. She had never been so bold or brazen before in any of her prior relationships, not to the point where she made love with her on top. There was something different about it, but nonetheless just as intimate.<p>

Once her breathing caught up with her heart-rate, Claire turned on her side and took the hand resting on his stomach and kissed the back of it. He shifted as well and his hand moved to trail through her brown hair, down her cheek, and stopped to rest at her shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," he told her with a contented sigh. He pulled her closer to his much warmer body, and she loved being this close to him. It was like being consumed in everything that was his own. His chest was smooth save for a few auburn curls, and his muscles were relaxed. "You are a light in my life Claire."

She felt like a glowing star with him, and hearing his expressed affection made her beam. She smiled timidly and intertwined her fingers with his hand and her legs with his own. Claire knew she could get used to this, knew she wouldn't mind falling asleep like this every night. It was too easy to fantasize about the impossible futures despite its happening in the present. Every day was unpredictable, not so long as this war still raged on. No one knew what would happen next. Because of this, she finally found the courage she had lacked for so long for more reasons than simple cowardice. She didn't think it needed to be necessarily said, but Claire wanted him to know.

"Obi-Wan, I..." her eyes lifted to meet his. "I love you."

It felt good rolling off her tongue, and it was so natural she wanted to tell him over and over and make sure he never forgot. She stopped the impulse, because once was enough for now.

"Oh Claire," he only paused in order to place a kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

"I've waited a long time to hear that."

Obi-Wan quirked up an amused brow and he laughed. "You'll have to forgive the late nature of my admission then."

Her lips curled into a grin. "I forgive you."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note**: _Once again thank you for the enjoyable reviews! As you can imagine, if the previous chapter is the calm, this chapter's the storm. _

* * *

><p><strong>I Have A Bad Feeling About This<strong>

Chapter Nine

The next day, Obi-Wan came to her in the middle of her shift unexpectedly. Claire managed to spare a few minutes in order to talk with him in a quieter, less busy hallway.

"I'm leaving for Utapau later this afternoon."

Claire nodded with a frown. She shoved her hands into her coat's pockets, leaned against one of the pearly white walls of the med-center, and fumbled with her datapad's stylus. "Should I ask why you're going there and when you might be coming back?"

"Anakin received important information about the whereabouts of Trade Federation's leading military commander. A message was partially intercepted in a diplomatic packet from the chairman of Utapau. The order has been trying to track down Grievous since the Chancellor was kidnapped. He's going to be on Utapau for a short period of time. This is our chance."

"Grievous sounds faintly familiar."

"He's wanted for war crimes, and if we take him into custody we may be able to end this war by negotiating with the Federation's other leaders."

"Well," Claire pushed off the wall and moved to stand before him. She pulled Obi-Wan's cloak more over his shoulders. Her mouth fell open, as if to say something, but hesitated. She sighed and nodded again, though this time more for herself. "This is a good thing then. The sooner its over the better for everyone."

He explained his situation again: duty called, and like always, he stood ready to answer.

"I'll be going solo onto the planet, but a handful of military squadrons will be on stand-by in case he tries to escape."

"Why isn't Anakin going with you?"

"The other masters want to keep him close at this time," he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "They're anxious about him, especially since the Chancellor specifically requested he lead the troops."

"Do they not trust him?"

"I don't know if I would push their opinion that far. He's always been..."

"_Reckless_."

Obi-Wan chuckled sadly. "Yes, that." He shrugged. "They want someone with more experience representing the Jedi Order. Anakin was disappointed, but given time and patience, he'll become a Jedi Master soon enough."

"That's a terrible place to put you and him. From what you've told me he sounds just as capable."

"Perhaps, but the decision's been made. For all we know, this information might really turn out to be nothing but a distraction."

Their time was running out. She needed to return to work before someone noticed her absence, and he had a military excursion to join. Even if she didn't like the idea of him going out alone, even for a portion of this push against the Federation, it didn't matter; despite whatever worries, she trusted his abilities and his judgment.

"Take care of yourself," she said with a half-smile. Her fingers slid over his stubble, his beard, and then his lips, lingering. He reached up, too her hand, and kissed the pads of her fingers. Claire then embraced him, gripping his brown, tattered cloak.

"When this war is over," he whispered into her loose hair, almost breathing her in, "I'd like to take you to Naboo." It was hard to stand strong beside him, and in order to keep herself together, Claire gripped him tighter. "We'll sit on the side of the lake, tour the markets, try some of their delicious cuisine," she closed her eyes and if she tried hard enough, she could almost see it in her mind. "Maybe," he laughed quietly, "maybe we'll do some of that dancing you so dearly enjoy."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise one way or another, Obi-Wan."

"And I'll see to it that you do."

* * *

><p>Claire found it extremely difficult to focus on tending to her patients today. Though her heart had never truly been in medical work, it had a meaningful purpose during war and that had always been enough to get her through the day. It was so evidently different this time around−she used to be able to throw herself into her work, to focus on the necessary and push away the other worries, if only for a few hours until she was home again. Today she saw newly arrived patients with a stoic front, ordered prescriptions and cybernetic implants without trouble, rotated patients for their daily kolto tank, and attended a surgery without hesitation.<p>

But today was a day in which all she wanted was to be working on droids or machinery, not humans, once again. Every face she saw, every patient laying in their beds or floating in a koltotank, every active soldier who passed through the med-center−they all reminded her of Obi-Wan in some way, from the most similar details to the banal. It was too easy to imagine Obi-Wan in a med-center a week from then, having succeeded at his mission with sacrifice to his physical health, injured. Even more distressing, it was too easy to fall over the edge and imagine the worst: failure and permanently losing him. It had been so much easier all the other times.

Claire worked diligently, and no one saw anything further in her tired expression. When she finally returned home after the long day, she admitted how bitterly proud she was of herself for managing to hold together.

_Maybe it won't be so difficult. _

But only after a week of having him in her life once again, her apartment felt cold, unwelcoming, and empty. She could almost hear her mother's voice in the back of her head, inappropriately offering the practical standpoint as a remedy: his presence in her life was sporadic and rare that therefore it shouldn't hurt. As she walked to her kitchen to boil water, she tossed out the practical and spiraled downward. There was no escaping him.

The kitchen area reminded her of their shared evenings talking over leftovers and the morning after their first time intimately knowing one another. When she heard DA-R1 enter the kitchen, the droid asked about Master Kenobi and Claire couldn't reply. When the teapot whistled, she reached past the jar of Bluefruit Kintle leaves and found an old bitter tea she used to enjoy.

Claire took her steaming cup and headed for her balcony. It was difficult to hold her head down and keep her eyes semi-forward as she passed by her bed. She leaned against her balcony's railing, watching the headlights of speeders zoom by, seeing the faint neon lights of clubs and restaurants in the distance, and she couldn't help but think of their evenings out at Dex's Diner and their first conversation at the Outlander Club. If she dropped her guard well enough, Claire swore she could almost imagine him there beside her.

After finishing her tea, Claire abandoned her mug on her bedside table and headed for her 'fresher. She was still fully dressed in her work clothes consisting of a white lab coat and a black turtleneck and skirt. She stood infront of her sink, with her head bowed and her hands gripping the sides of the bowl. When she looked up and saw just how hard she was trying to remain calm, she lost it. Her hand covered her mouth, muffling the otherwise choked sob.

She took a quick shower once she gathered herself again. She wanted to desperately know how many times she would need to pick up the pieces of her heart and rearrange them so that they were resilient for the next time. Finally dressed in comfortable, clean clothes, she knew she needed to get some rest for the next day that would hopefully be full of enough routine to keep her steady. She had not bothered to turn on her bedroom light, and like so many other times before, only the faint light of Coruscant at night filtered inside. Her body physically hesitated as she stood before her bedside, and moving to sit on the edge made her feel lethargic and exhausted.

Claire held her head in her hands and remained still for several minutes. She was apprehensive to turn and see the side of the bed where he lay not even a day ago. It was too hard to resist the temptation, and she succumbed.

A rush of both relief and agony consumed her when she breathed in Obi-Wan's residual smell off of his pillow.

* * *

><p>On the one-thousand-eighty-ninth day of the Clone Wars, the entire galaxy shifted into a new era that harkened to dark, unstable periods of the Old Republic. The truth became revealed: the Clone War simply was a battle within a larger, ancient war between two feuding ideologies and their respective followings; though the Republic had won the Clone War with the death of General Grievous, the overarching war was ultimately lost through Contingency Order 66:<p>

_In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), commanders of the Grand Army of the Republic will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established. _

It was broadcast all across Republic channels, announced unceremoniously even by the most trusted HoloNET sources. The proclaimed truth: the Jedi attempted a coup against Chancellor Palpatine in order to usurp power and replace the Galactic Senate with the Jedi Council. The Jedi Temple, in the process, was ransacked. The terrible feeds on the HoloNET were worthless: too blurry and shaky, but Claire didn't need a live-stream in order to see the destruction. When she stood out on her balcony, she saw the smoke and flames rising into the atmosphere like a miasma. The place of sanctity, knowledge, and peace burned. The largest garden on Coruscant, consumed by flames and destroyed.

More than anything she wanted to find a way to contact Obi-Wan, to tell him to stay away from Coruscant because the damage was already done, and, if anything, would only escalate. She knew any attempt at communication would be dangerous because any channel could be tapped and become insecure. With every fiber of her being Claire hoped he and as many other Jedi had escaped capture and execution. She knew all of the proclaimed "truths" were far from it. She decided she needed to expand her distrust to not only politicians but to supposed journalists as well.

The next morning, Claire desperately searched the HoloNET for accurate information. Instead of coming across good news, she found only a streaming of the most recent speech by Chancellor Palpatine regarding the developing crisis.

"...The Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!" The Senate burst into rounds of applause and cheers. "The remaining Republic will be reformed into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure galaxy." The positive response by the Senate made her queasy. All of this was wrong, so very wrong. "And as my first decree, those harboring Jedi fugitives will be arrested for interrogation immediately. Those who turn in information regarding these traitors to our Galactic Empire shall be rewarded vastly for their pursuit of justice..."

Claire shut off her datapad, and in a wide-eyed panic began to collect the most important items of her personal effects. She had been seen in too many places with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and she did not want to take the risk. It saddened her deeply, but clearly Coruscant could no longer be a home for her.

"Master, shall I help you collect your belongings?" DA-R1 asked; Claire wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she thought her droid's voice lacked its sing-song quality.

As she pulled a traveling cloak over her brown robes and darker colored thermal pants, she shook her head. "Only taking the essentials." The essentials being the clothes on her back, her emergency stash of credits, some of her lighter, smaller tools (including a multi-purpose hydro-spanner), some kolto packs, her custom welding goggles, and a blaster she kept under her bed. "Grab a couple of ration packs from the cabinet."

Once DA-R1 retrieved the ration packs, Claire added them to the satchel slung over her shoulder and across her chest. She kept her blaster in a secure holster around her waist where it was easily accessible.

"We need to get going."

"Where are we exactly going, Master?"

"I don't know yet," she told DA-R1 with a solemn frown. "We can't stay here. They'll arrest me and they'll steal your memory chip, take what they need, deactivate you, or instead give you a solid memory wipe. I'm not letting them get to either of us."

Claire had no idea what she was doing. She wasn't sure if she was technically a fugitive yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time; either way she would be charged guilty by association (and clearly more). She would rather die than let them take her, but that, of course, was a last resort. More than anything, she needed to find Obi-Wan.

* * *

><p>Claire sped through the airways without a clear destination, because she didn't know where to go. She knew Obi-Wan completed his mission, but he could be anywhere throughout the galaxy.<p>

She decided to head for the industrial sector, in particular the Works, because if there was anywhere safer on Coruscant during this disaster, it had to be there. Better yet, she knew she could procure transport from a smuggler or mercenary if the price was right.

When she arrived at the Works speeder port, which was on one of the lowest levels of the city-planet, she saw only chaos. It seemed that everyone was trying to get off of Coruscant as quickly as possible. She pulled her hood over her head and told DA-R1 to stay quiet. Unlike most other civilians from the upper levels, Claire had access to this whole underworld via her previous profession. She could place some faith into these people, and with perhaps added persuasion, could get off safely and quietly like smuggled goods. Her best bet was a Rodian smuggler and mercenary whom she purchased parts from. They had a reliable and reasonable business operation for Works standards. She knew how to get to his secluded shop while most other civilians didn't. What looked like a dead end corridor led her straight to Anirad'a's Scrap Shop. She knocked three times, paused, and then once again. A slit opened in the door.

"Password?"

"Sizzlestick."

The door opened and the blue-green Rodian stood before her. He allowed her and DA-R1 inside and then shut the metal door with a loud clank.

"Good to see you Claire," he spoke in decent Basic, though he pronounced her name with a harsh 'k' sound. "Lookin' to get off of the glowing Coruscant too?"

"I've got my reasons." Claire said as she sat down in one of his wobbly, unbalanced chairs.

"Got creds?"

"Of course. I'm not an idiot. And don't try to scam me just because the demand's high. You owe me a favor."

"If I'm correct you owe _me_, a favor."

"That's news to me." Claire narrowed her brows and leaned forward. "Stars Anir, you really going to play this game with me now?"

"Business is slow. Business will get tighter with the war over and people fleeing. Need to make _my_ way as well."

"Look, I'll pay five percent extra, how's that?"

He folded his hands in his lap. "Make it twenty-five or you can leave now."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty."

"Fifteen is as low as I'm going."

"Fifteen and you give me your protocol droid."

DA-R1's lighted eyes brightened and her head swiveled towards Claire, about to say something. Her master raised a hand to stop her and shook her head toward Anir.

"No, she's not on the table. Twenty percent of the rate and you give me a few minutes on one of your secure com channels."

"Twenty percent and five minutes."

"You have a deal."

Claire stood for her chair, and they shook on it. Anir guided her to his personal holoterminal in the back room and powered it on.

"You've got five minutes, and that's not negotiable. The security scrambler lasts for that length of time and after that you're revealed." As he adjusted the settings, he asked, "Personal holocom?"

"Yes."

"Type in the number and it'll go through."

Claire took a deep breath. She was betting everything on the possibility that he had returned to Coruscant. She had overheard whispers that the Jedi Temple was sending a message calling for all remaining Jedi to return. Knowing Obi-Wan and his bravery streaks, he would come to deactivate that message and in turn send a warning to stay away. She typed in the number and swallowed hard.

"Five minutes." He said as he stepped back into the shop's main room. "Good luck."

Claire crossed her fingers, desperately hoping he would answer despite the code being foreign and scrambled. She was betting so much on this and time was slipping away with every second.

Finally, Obi-Wan picked up and his holographic image appeared. She nearly burst into tears out of happiness. He was alive and still on Coruscant. There really was a chance for hope!

"Obi-Wan, this is Claire."

"Your image is difficult to make out, but I hear you. I can't talk too loud."

"Where are you?"

He hesitated, though she wasn't sure it was because of his own apprehension or because he wanted her to stay away.

"It's terrible, Claire." His voice was hard, and she knew immediately that it was bad. Staring at his hologram, she could almost feel him through something surreal, perhaps the Force.

"We've had a significant loss of life," his voice was filled with so much sadness it made her tremble. "Anakin, he's..."

"Listen, I don't have much time to explain. I need to see you, in person. Somehow, someway. I can secure passage for us and a few other refugees."

"Claire, I'm afraid that's impossible." It disturbed her to hear him listless and pessimistic.

"No, it isn't, trust me. Please, trust me. Tell me where you are and I'll-"

The holoterminal shut off.

"_Five minutes_."

Claire nearly screamed. She reached for her blaster and shoved its barrel into Anir's side.

"You're going to trace that holocom right now for the exact coordinates. I'm not misremembering. I'm the one who pulled your sorry ass out of the fire when Republic security was going down on you for selling spice."

Anir raised his hands into the air in full surrender. "Fine, fine. But this will cost you-"

"I'm retracting the previous contract. The new one is you get me a trace on that call and I don't shoot you in the stomach, in which you'll die a slow, painful death."

Anir grumbled and she pressed her blaster further against him. It only took him a few seconds to trace Obi-Wan's holocom.

"Great," she stepped back, called out for DA-R1 to get ready to leave. She continued to point the blaster at the Rodian, who kept his hands in the air.

"Nice doing business," Claire bitterly said.

* * *

><p>It took only ten minutes to race over to the a private, secluded hangar bay. She needed to catch Obi-Wan before he and other potential refugees made their escapes from the planet.<p>

Her speeder skidded against the landing pad and ungraciously stopped with a jerk. She saw him preparing to board a small ship.

"Obi-Wan!" She called out, nearly stumbling over the side of her speeder.

To her relief, he stopped and stared as she ran toward him. DA-R1 followed after her stiffly. Once in range, she embraced him tightly and noticed that he didn't embrace her back. When she turned to meet his eyes, she saw how empty they were.

"What is it?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. When it seemed like she wasn't going to get a response besides a blank expression, she gently shook him by the shoulders. "Please, tell me."

His eyes moved to meet hers, and it was as if he were recognizing her at last.

"Claire?" he paused, as if he couldn't believe she was standing before him. "Claire," he reached up and cupped her face. "I have to stop him."

"Stop who?"

"Anakin," he couldn't say the name without his voice cracking. Her heart sank to the bottom of her chest. "Claire he's fallen. Oh how far he's fallen."

Claire's eyes widened. Obi-Wan was on the brink of losing it, of falling to pieces.

"I...I have to stop my brother from hurting anyone else."

She embraced him again and this time he held her back, squeezing her, breathing in her smell. Their world crumbled around them-her physical home and the home where her heart lay, with Obi-Wan. His resolve cracked and she listened to him with her eyes closed and her fingers smoothing out his hair.

"Try to get through to him," she suggested, even if the idea was flawed and futile. She didn't know the total parameters of his situation, there wasn't time to know, but she offered what little she could. "He loves you. Whatever's happened, you're the only person who can get through to him." She frowned and closed her eyes again in order to prevent them from watering. "Don't think about any other alternative while there's still hope."  
>Obi-Wan nodded against her and pulled away slightly. He searched her eyes for answers, and although he found no definite ones, he found the safe haven he always found.<p>

"I don't know if we'll ever see each other again."

"Don't say that," she stated quickly. "Don't you _dare _think like that. We've been through too much to give up." She swallowed hard and her own resolve was faltering. There had to be hope. There had to be something. "We're going to Naboo someday. You and me. We're...we're going to sit on the lake eating a picnic of their finest cuisine, and we're going to wander through the markets, and we'll be happy, you and me, because stars Obi-Wan, you made a _promise_ and I intend to have you keep it."

His frown only deepened, but he didn't say anything. He neither confirmed or refuted the possibility, but she could see the nonverbal doubt. Claire needed to think of something fast.

"Dari!" Claire pulled away from Obi-Wan and went to her loyal droid at her side. "Dari, you have been my best creation yet. I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for you." Claire swallowed hard and moved in order to stand behind her droid. She reached into her satchel, pulled out her hydro-spanner, and began undoing the bolts on DA-R1's neck, where her memory core stayed. "You're my best friend, and I'm so sorry for doing this to you. One day we'll be reunited."

She opened the hatch. "Goodbye for now, Dari. Thanks for everything."

"It's been a pleasure to serve."

She then carefully pulled out the small glittering memory core, and Dari immediately shut down and slumped forward, hanging limply. She placed the hydro-spanner back into her satchel.

Claire walked back to Obi-Wan, holding the machinery in her hand.

"I want you to have this." Claire reached into her satchel and pulled out a small scarf in order to wrap the fragile device. She then handed it to him, but he shook his head.

"I want you to have it," she implored. "Consider it temporary. You'll feel compelled to return it to me one day, because you're that sort of man. I'll have Dari's frame with me, and I will not use her again until I have this core again. I will use no other droid than her."

"Claire-"

She placed it inside of his hand and curled his fingers around the small core.

"I'm going to look for you. I'm going to do whatever I can to find you after. I promise you that. And I expect to follow through with my promise just as much as your own."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere the Chancellor won't find me. Certainly not the Core Worlds."

Obi-Wan placed the core into his robe's inner pocket. He then leaned forward and stole her lips in a final kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to make it last as long as possible. She knew this separation could last longer, even significantly longer than three years. She didn't know how she was going to get through that pain, but she knew there needed to be some kind of end goal, no matter how far off it might be.

When they pulled a part, Obi-Wan whispered, "Whatever happens, know that I love you. Know that you've made me happier than I can ever express. You've fixed me in more ways than one."

Her eyes watered. "The robot trope, again?"

He sighed, and she was so pleased to see a small, if fleeting, smile. "I love you Claire, and I should have told you so much sooner."

"I know," she leaned forward and mouthed those same three words against his ear as tears slid down her cheeks.

"Goodbye Obi-Wan Kenobi." Her chest clenched. "May the Force be with you."

Claire then let him go, with him going to face his demons, his pain, and the only other person he loved in the galaxy, and her going to face the almost insurmountable loneliness and diaspora. She gathered DA-R1's lifeless body and watched his ship's engine roar to life, and then he was ascending and she waited until his ship was a dot in the sunset sky over Coruscant.

The first step back to her speeder, with her droid's body limp in her arms, was the loneliest moment of her life.

* * *

><p>The worst day, however, came two months later, when Claire woke up in a hurry from her uncomfortable bottom bunk on a civilian class transport freighter in order to empty her stomach into the refresher.<p> 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note**: _I sound like a broken record, but once again, thanks for reading, reviewing, and overall just enjoying my piece! It's been a long road since this was first published, and I apologize again for the long gap in between chapters six and seven. I'm very excited to be working on this story again, and I am quite happy to give you these updates this quickly. Anyways, enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>I Have A Bad Feeling About This<strong>

Chapter 10

Claire traveled to the Outer Rim as quickly as she possibly could after visiting the most trustworthy doctor on Nar Shaddaa (and by trustworthy, she meant the least likely to shoot her full of drugs, try to steal her organs, or enlist her in a gang). She was lucky to have found a doctor who had decent, if new, credentials, was a part of a low-cost clinic, and would keep quiet about her presence on the Hutts' pride and glory of their galactic territory. Though Claire knew deep down about the reality of her condition after morning after morning of illness drove her to lethargy, having it confirmed by someone else shook her world but not for the better.

She broke down in front of the doctor out of sheer loneliness. The poor young man didn't know what to do, and he misdiagnosed her emotional response.

"Aw, miss," he stammered, "I'm sorry. I can suggest adoption agencies, or if necessary-"

"What?" Claire tilted her head and looked up between strands of messy hair. She sat up straight again, pushed the hair out of her face, and shook her head. "No, none of that's necessary."

She left the doctor's tent inside of the refugee camp in the Industrial Sector and booked a trip off of the gambler's goldmine on another civilian-transport freighter. She didn't know where her end destination would be, but she knew she needed to stay on the run, at least until Obi-Wan contacted her or if she found a way to safely contact him.

The stars she once aspired to travel amongst, for adventure and exploration and immersion into new cultures−those dreams no longer were safe so long as the Galactic Empire reigned. The newly formed Imperial army possessed no mercy for those who aligned themselves amongst "traitors," the Jedi, regardless of whether they once were allies. Claire over-heard horror stories that filtered through other passengers quiet, subdued conversations on the starships she traveled on as she made her way to the Outer Rim. Every detail was distilled, there were children afterall on these ships, and so the truth about Imperial interrogation never fully came out into the open because the truth wasn't fully _known_−no one survived to tell the tale.

Two months ago, everything had been relatively simple: stay off of Coruscant, look over your shoulder, lie low, and hope to hear from Obi-Wan. Upon realizing she was pregnant, it no longer was just about her own survival. The thought of having a growing living creature inside of her scared Claire more than anything else in her life−it was hard enough taking care of herself, making sure she found a meal, keeping her head down when Imperial troopers "inspected" (ransacked) civilian transport ships for "safety and security reasons" (searching for rogue Jedi and Jedi sympathizers). But this extra responsibility? She knew she wasn't ready for it.

During the "inspections," Claire and almost every other civilian on the freighters held their breath. Her identification papers had been altered by a slicer on Nar Shaddaa for a hefty amount of her emergency credits, and as a result, Claire Elrin was legally _dead_. Her new name was Saya Ta'sola, a traveling mechanic simply trying to find business in the Outer Rim before having to settle down with a baby. Her story wasn't solid, and the Imperial troopers constantly tried to make her slip up, if partially for their own amusement, and perhaps because of darker intentions. They asked about why she was carrying around a droid without a memory chip. That detail had been much harder to explain. The first time through one of these mini-interrogations, she said that DA-R1 was a gift for family in the Outer Rim, but this answer only prompted more detailed questions, and it was hard to keep track of the facts under pressure.

Despite having papers, despite her attempts to come up with straight stories on the spot, even the prospect of an "inspection" caused her to go into a conditioned silent internal panic. These troopers were once Republic soldiers, clones, and any one of them could recognize her as an ex-Republic medic. Worse off, any of them could remember seeing her with General Obi-Wan Kenobi. She could change her name, but she couldn't change her appearance.

_We should have been more careful_, she thought every time they ordered for her papers to be turned over.

But who could have predicted this? Who could have known that a police state sat on the horizon of the Clone War's end?

With all of the constant inspections and actual stops on her way from Nar Shaddaa to the Outer Rim, another month or so had passed. When she began to show, the troopers began to ask about the whereabouts of the father, and Claire worried they could just see the truth in her wide eyes, that they could smell her fear, that they could sense the guilt through some extrasensory force. Each time, however, the troopers passed her by but she held in her relief until she was safe again in her bunk. Other passengers asked about her on occasion, particularly her bunk mates. They asked about how far along she was, if she was happy to have some form of light in all of this darkness, or if she and the father had come up with names. All of the inquiries drove the vibroknife further into her chest. Even more to her dismay, Claire didn't know if she could trust civilians who seemingly appeared innocent. She knew anyone could be an ear for the Empire.

_We should have been more careful_.

Claire knew that neither of them could have predicted where their relationship would end up. They had only engaged in intercourse twice, but as any other student in her class from the university on Coruscant would have smugly told her, "It only takes one instance of unprotected sex in order to become pregnant. You should have known better." Her mother would have been furious, if she were still alive, telling her that she shouldn't have gone and gotten herself pregnant, especially by a Jedi, and on top of everything else, in the middle of a damn _war_. Claire could agree that the timing was terrible, at the very least. Her father would be disheartened, but less vocal about his disappointment, she imagined. It didn't matter in the end; she didn't keep in touch with her father and she wasn't about to go begging for asylum on his doorstep. Corellia wouldn't be safe anyways. She imagined that planet overrun with Imperials, as likely as all of the Core.

Several of her fleeting bunkmates suggested that she go to Tatooine, because Hoth certainly wasn't the right answer for a mechanic with a baby on the way (though the sandy planet wasn't the best choice either, and some warned her that it was a "hive of wretched scum, the lowest of the low in all of the galaxy"). But Tatooine always needed a greased up hand for the moisture farms and for droid repairs (because not many liked to deal with Jawas); plus, if the rumors were true, the Imperial presence was smaller and less significant there.

On the final evening aboard the ship that was taking her to Tatooine, she laid in her bottom bunk, gently rubbing her abdomen while her thoughts raced. She was running low on credits; nothing was cheap, even the things that used to cost only a few credits had had their prices inflated as a result of the galaxy's chaos. She needed to find work as soon as possible on-planet or she would starve. All of the anxiety and fear drove her to sleepless nights that didn't help the unending morning sickness and the overall weakness in her body. Her bunk was situated by the ship's starboard wall, and there was a small circular window to look out of. The emptiness of space seemed cathartic at times, perhaps mirroring her own loneliness.

In the middle of the evening, when her eyes began to droop but not shut all the way, when sleep seemed so close she could almost feel its embrace, she allowed herself to fantasize about a future where Obi-Wan was in her life again, where he was the father of her child, _their_ child, and neither needed to worry about being on the run. She dreamed about not doing any of this alone. It was in this moment that she dared to have a shred of hope, because only in the dead of evening, where the ship was still besides the hum of the engines, there was nothing to fear. Her thoughts were safe from glaring, suspicious eyes. She didn't chastise herself during the evening.

Claire hoped most of all that he survived his mission to find Anakin Skywalker. She hoped that Obi-Wan succeeded in redeeming him and that somehow, someway the transgressions of the past, whatever they may be, could be forgiven. She hoped he wasn't alone, because despite the pain, she had a double-edged blessing and curse: a permanent reminder of him. She hoped that others of his order survived the massacre, and that any day now they would strike back against the Empire, reclaim the Republic, and early liberation would save the galaxy from its looming downward spiral.

* * *

><p>Perhaps if she came to Tatooine at another time in her life, she might have found the lively market area of Mos Eisley exciting, or perhaps she would have had to stop herself from splurging on cheap droid parts. She thought the Lower Sector and the Works had been an exotic meshing of different cultures, but clearly Tatooine had the edge.<p>

As she stepped into the heat for the first time, the twin suns beat down on her and made her feel light-headed. She pulled the hood of her traveling cloak over her head and pulled out a scarf from her satchel in order to wrap its brightly colored thin cloth around the lower half of her face. There was just enough wind to pick up stray particles of sand and as a result, she added her goggles to protect her eyes. She looked over-dressed, but the cloak covered her body well enough to hide the small bump. Her entire body was covered from head to toe, save for the tiny show of skin due to her fingerless gloves. Prior to landing, Claire cut up a hammock bunk that wasn't in use inside of her quarters and made a make-shift sack in order to carry DA-R1, whom she had deconstructed for the sake of easy carrying.

As she found her way into the nearby market area with the intention of finding a cheap meal, a job, and some lodging, she saw that everyone was armed to varying degrees, but no one looked at her twice. To her relief, Tatooine had a similar quality as Coruscant: if you keep your head down no one will ask questions, if you don't start trouble, you'll be left alone.

Each food vendor sold something different, and she needed protein, so she chose to purchase something called a "Bantha Kebob."

"Best food on all of Tatooine, pilgrim," the merchant told her.

Claire didn't reply, but gestured with a gloved hand that she wanted three kebob sticks. She nearly screamed with joy that te price wasn't ridiculous.

The Nautolan man seemed congenial as he prepared her meal with its finishing touches and offered small talk. Claire took the opportunity to ask quickly, "Do you know if there's work here?"

"That depends. There's always work as a mercenary for Jabba the Hutt. What're you lookin' for?"

"Anything to do with technology. Prefer droids." She shrugged. "Maybe medicine, if necessary."

"Well Jabba's still holding pod-races, despite the new Imperial law. You could always work as a pit mechanic. People always needin' a hand on the moisture farms. Could try Tosche Station, maybe. Maybe Anchorhead." The merchant handed over her meal and she in turn handed over the credits. "All depends."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

"Just tell your friends about Nurkolas' Kabob's!"

Claire found a secluded alleyway and sat down in the shade of a building. She lowered her scarf and bit into the chunk of meat greedily, as she hadn't eaten in days. Her mouth exploded with the savory, solid taste. She was sick of military rations and liquid meals that were typical of transport ship. More than anything she needed to keep her strength if she had any hope of having this child.

As she ate, Claire thought about her options given how little credits she had left. She had enough to purchase another week's worth of meals (so long as they were cheap like this one). She had enough water in her canteen, which was from the last ship's supply, to last a week as well if she rationed it, but she knew that the heat would force her to drink more. It was more like less than a few days. She needed to find work locally because she didn't have too many credits to spare on speeder travel.

Claire couldn't work for a Hutt. Not when she had a child on the way. A Hutt would never let her have her child with her; children were extra mouths to feed and bad form. She didn't want to risk the consequences of keeping it a secret either because all she needed was for her baby to be killed upon its entry into the world, and worse, her killed alongside by for lying to a powerful entity.

Whomever she worked for needed to know the truth. That she was with child, and that whatever contract she made needed to protect both herself and her child. She had made enough contracts with shady smugglers to know to read fine print.  
>When Claire finished her meal, she pulled up her scarf and headed back onto the main road, in search of junk dealers or technician shops.<p>

* * *

><p>Claire found a person hiring after several days of searching throughout the large city of Mos Eisley. She thanked her lucky stars repeatedly, with every breath she took, because it had not been looking good for her prior. She had been on the brink of desperation, about to sell her soul to a Hutt and take her chances, but when all hope had seemed lost, she found potential salvation with an old woman who owned her deceased husband and son's repair shop.<p>

"My husband died of the Womp Rat plague and my son was killed by Tusken raiders. I need someone to take over the labor portion of the shop for me. I'm sick myself," the old woman coughed hoarsely. Her hands shook as she explained, "I can't fix things as I used to. I can't keep up with commissions."

Claire nodded sympathetically. "I worked as a mechanic on Coruscant for over ten years, fixing anything from droids to speeders to occasionally starships. Prior to that work I attended university and studied medicine."

The old woman peered at Claire with suspicion. "Why leave Coruscant? Why leave such a life?"

Claire hesitated. She swallowed hard and realized that if she wanted this job, she needed to divulge somewhat more into the truth. The older woman studied her and watched as Claire's hand fell to her abdomen.

"Ah, you're with child." The woman's bitter voice felt sharp to Claire's ears. "And the father?"

"If he isn't dead, he's on the run from the Empire." She left it at that, hoping perhaps the woman would understand.

"You are a fugitive, then."

"Not exactly. I haven't done anything wrong by reasonable legal standards." She sat up straight and narrowed her brows. "I'm not a criminal."

"Can you prove your knowledge of repairs?"

"Yes, I can." Claire revealed her sack of un-assembled droid parts, DA-R1. "I built this prior to the war. She is a domestic assistant droid. Take a look for yourself. If you yourself have worked on droids you'll know it's mostly handmade."

The old woman took the offered collection of pieces and examined them carefully with the help of magnifying goggles. She examined DA-R1's head and chest wiring.

"The craftsmanship is well done. You say this was a prototype?"

"Just before the war hit I switched from commission work to working in the hangar bays. When it hit, I enlisted in the Republic with the intention of being a mechanic. Threw me into medicine instead."

"You are a soldier?"

"A medical doctor. Not a field medic."

The woman's shaking hands carefully turned over DA-R1's neck. "Why do you not have a memory chip?"

Claire swallowed hard and looked down. She quietly stated, "I gave that to the father when we parted, as a reason for him to find me."

The woman's features softened and she nodded in understanding.

"If you work for me you must also provide medical care if needed. There are few trustworthy doctors here."

"Of course." Claire was ready to accept almost any condition so long as it guaranteed her and her child's safety.

"I cannot pay you well. You will need to learn Huttese."

"All I require is lodging and meals for myself and when the time comes, my child as well. I can learn Huttese as quickly as possible." Claire paused and rubbed the backs of her hands anxiously. "I know it's a lot to ask someone; it's hard enough with one extra person. But I'll do nearly anything."

The old woman stood slowly and extended her hand. Claire hesitantly stood as well.

"We have an agreement then, with one final condition."

Claire's hand hovered in mid-air, waiting to hear the final condition.

"You must tell me your real name. Your papers are good but I have seen better identification papers. You were clearly desperate for something barely passable as legitimate."

"Okay," she shrugged cautiously. "Fair enough. But I have one final request then as well." Claire knew it was bad form to try to request things when she did not have the upper hand. The woman nodded with stern eyes. "I would prefer having someone to help me when the time comes, whether yourself or someone else."

"I've delivered a child before, once. I will be able to help you."

Claire then took the old woman's hand, shaking it as she said, "My name is Claire Elrin."

* * *

><p>Despite early skepticism and unspoken uncertainty, Claire and Widow Deluska found a rhythm and they both appreciated the company. Claire proved her technical and mechanical skills repeatedly, and business went well in the following months. The only new found challenge wasn't much of a challenge to begin with: several of the widow's regular customers were pod-racers and swoop-bike champions. They had been apprehensive of having someone new looking over, tuning, or repairing their prides and joys. Claire herself had never worked on such machinery, but she found these vehicles to be similar to regular speeders in design and function, but were additionally formatted with technology similar to bigger starships with powerful thrusters and advanced piloting.<br>On occasion locals came by requesting help with moisture farming pieces, to which Widow Deluska needed to explain. In other instances, merchants came by in order to commission droids or have their own droids repaired or updated. Mercenaries came by seeking the latest in killing technology, and Claire didn't bat an eyelash at the prospect of what these men and women did. Many of them were amateurs looking to become as well geared as the big-shots who worked for Jabba the Hutt. Some came in looking to sell rather than buy. On the most unpleasant and nerve-wracking of occasions, Imperial troopers came into the shop and demanded adjustments for their weapons and armor. Widow Deluska always took care of these customers while she did the work in the back room away from their eyes.

Overall, Claire found a degree of safety and security here, even happiness. No longer did she worry about where her next meal would be, no longer did she worry about the future of her child, and no longer did she fear Imperial capture. Widow Deluska and Claire found comfort in having the others presence. Having someone to talk to stemmed off their mutual loneliness in the galaxy due to circumstances more powerful than their control.

Claire worked on the things she loved, machines, not living breathing beings, though she tended to the widow when necessary. Despite the downsides of Tatooine, such as the frequent blaster-fire down the street from cantina brawls gone awry, to frequent sand-storms, and the overbearing heat, Claire allowed herself to believe that everything had turned out mostly alright.

As the months passed, it became more difficult to get on the ground and make repairs, due to her enlarging abdomen. At times she found it difficult to resist building a new memory core and placing it into DA-R1's shell for the sake of having someone to help her up and do what used to be simple chores. Claire couldn't do it ultimately; she had made a promise to Obi-Wan and despite however difficult it became, she would carry on and keep her vow, even if it was the most _impractical_ decision she had ever made.

Widow Deluska and Claire shared life experiences over meals, and Claire especially loved to hear about her son and husband because it made her the most enthused.

"You remind me so much of my son. He preferred working on machines than anything else in his life." She sighed and took a sip of her blue milk. "But there were troubles on the outskirts. We needed a strong defense to push the raiders back. Sand People. You may know of them."

"I've heard of them through stories, but I wouldn't know specifics."

"Violent people. Care only for their tribes."

Claire frowned and finished her meal in silence. She knew that her companion wouldn't want to talk about it anymore. Their dinner was a small slab of Bantha meat−she really was having a lot of protein lately−and something that tasted like bread but wasn't called bread. Their meals were always small, and that was fine for Claire. Her muscles were getting stronger. She would have appreciated all of the hard work if it weren't for the child on the way.  
>The dinner in silence reminded her of Obi-Wan. Of how comfortable and pleasing it was to be with someone who had a natural calming effect on others. It was no wonder he served as a mediator and a diplomat. The memories were hard on her, as they always were, but they weren't as deafeningly painful. Despite the fact, something ached in the back of her head, and it became annoying enough for to feel light-headed, tired, and without an appetite anymore. She let out a low sigh and this time it was Deluska's turn to pry.<p>

"Go on, tell me."

Claire looked up and glanced towards the widow. Whenever she divulged in facts about Obi-Wan, she always carefully worded her sentences so as not to draw further suspicion.

"He and I used to eat like this. In silence, but together. It was relaxing. Other times we just talked quietly about this or that. Sometimes the war. Sometimes my work. Shared laughs. He had a dry sense of humor," she laughed quietly. "I always told bad jokes that I'm sure he only laughed at because he didn't want me to feel bad."

Deluska nodded and continued on with her meal.

Claire tried to continue eating, but ended up picking at her food. She rasped in a low voice, "I miss him so much."

"Do you believe in something?"

"What?" She raised a brow because the question came out of nowhere. "I don't really believe in much these days. Are you talking about the Force?"

"Not necessarily. Anything. Something. Do you have faith?"

"Maybe," a shrug, "what's there to have faith in nowadays?"

"People, the future, a higher being, _oneself_."

"I used to believe in people, maybe, I guess. That people will do good things in the end, that people will at least try." She thought of Obi-Wan and his order. "On Coruscant, I had plenty of doubts about politicians. That they aren't working with the people in mind. My...,well, the father, he told me that there are some people in government who do think about the people, even if they're few in number. It's their voice that counts, even if it's quiet and sometimes subdued. He said he would always stand by those people because it was the right thing to do." She scratched her neck and off-handedly rubbed her abdomen. "He told me that you have to have faith in something. That you should adhere yourself to honor and duty."

"He sounds like an optimistic man."

"I suppose he was optimistic. Certainly not pessimistic. He hoped for relative peace, even in the end."

"Was he religious?"

Claire blinked and hesitated. She wondered if the widow was peeling away each layer of her vague answers by asking specific questions.

"He...he saw the beauty in the galaxy. Or maybe not beauty, necessarily. He thought everything was sort of connected. That everything had a purpose one way or another." She decided that if the widow had wanted to turn her in as a fugitive, she would have done it already; thus, Claire allowed herself to indulge in reminiscing. "He definitely was more religious than myself. During our time together he showed me some of that beauty, beauty that went farther than just machines. You could call it a new perspective on living. I don't know if that's necessarily religious or simply philosophical." Claire smiled half-heartedly and gathered her dishes. "That's partially why I love him."

As she walked over to the small kitchen area to start doing her dishes, a burst of pain shot through her, and she stumbled, cried out, dropped the metal dishes, and had to grab onto something quickly in order to steady herself. Deep down Claire knew it was time. She moaned and shook her head−she wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to face this pain, wasn't ready to step into these many unknowns and hope for the best.

Widow Deluska helped her over to the small bed in her quarters and laid her down with pillows propping her back and lower abdomen. As another contraction came, she opened her eyes wide and saw the older woman collecting supplies: several clean to semi-clean towels, warm water (which wasn't in as short of supply as cold water), and as Claire closed her eyes and let out another whimper, she didn't know what else. More than anything she wished she were having this baby inside of a medcenter on Coruscant, where they had pain medication and kolto...

"Listen to me, stay with me," the widow patted Claire's already sweating forehead with a damp cloth. "You will get through this. Keep breathing. Follow my instructions and _you will_ get through this."

Claire nodded between heavy breaths, and Deluska squeezed her hand.

No matter how comforting it was to have someone, especially someone who was experienced in child-birth in this setting, Claire nonetheless wanted Obi-Wan to be there: to have him squeezing her hand, telling her it would be alright, to look up and see his eyes, to pick out a name together when the time came.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note: **_Once again, thanks for the reviews, the favorites, just plain reading. I tried something new with this chapter, as you'll immediately see. I went through several different phases while writing this, particularly in regard to how I was going to go about this. In the end, I decided upon something that I'm happy with, and it was a good challenge writing from a different perspective. __There will also be an epilogue after this. Anyways, enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>I Have A Bad Feeling About This<strong>

Chapter 11

_So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
>Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?<em>

**16 BBY, Tatooine**

The wind howled loudly. Obi-Wan Kenobi tilted his head and saw the looming monster of a sand-storm on Mos Eisley's horizon. The weather was always an inconvenience on Tatooine. All along the main road, shops began to board up to prevent excess dust from coming inside and vendors packed up for the following hours. He thought about heading back to the his small home out in the Dune Sea and thus abandoning and putting off his project of installing necessary moisture collecting vaporators that would further make his home self-sustaining. Every venture into cities and even the smallest of towns threatened the small sense of security his self-imposed exile created. Obi-Wan knew there were active bounties on his head and Tatooine had the habit of attracting bounty hunters.

The hot sun beat down upon his covered head. He glanced down at the broken pipe and decided there was no point in leaving the city without completing what he came there for. Like everyone else, he'd ride the sandstorm out. He patted his eopie's side and headed down the road to find the nearest cantina where he could quench his thirst and overhear conversations about the status of the galaxy under the Empire. The closest establishment was _Chalmun's Cantina_.

Obi-Wan hitched up his eopie at the indoor stable and headed inside to see that business and frontier pleasure still continued even in bad weather; if anything, it encouraged more crime, violence, and business as people were forced indoors in confined spaces for extended periods of time. The music was loud and catchy, and he knew it would get stuck in his head for the rest of the afternoon until he could properly meditate it away. He approached the counter in the center of the crowded bar and ordered something alcoholic, something called a _Star Crossed Lover_.

As he waited for his drink, he leaned against the bar and let his thoughts wander. All the noise around him became superficial and unimportant, merely a part of the background clatter. He was almost there, almost about to have found both physical and mental peace and quiet through concentration when his heart betrayed him.

"Why do I even come to these clubs?"

Obi-Wan straightened and swiveled around with a palpitating heart and wide eyes. Patrons standing around him made funny looks and inched away from him. A few tense moments passed as he searched for the familiar face in the crowd. When he realized it had been a cruel trick of the mind, he sighed, rubbed his eyes, and then turned to face the bar again to see that his drink had arrived. He fished into his cloak's pocket and pulled out the proper amount of credits. He wasn't at all planning on starting a tab, but the electric blue drink had nostalgic, sentimental value.

Encouraging the past through subtle reminders served as a sharp double-edged blade. Yet there was no use in denying the memories because the wound had already reopened itself with the false sensation of hearing her voice. So often he fought those memories and forced them to stay concealed, deeming them too painful, but pain constantly made itself known in his life regardless. As he continued to drink the glass of alcohol, he wondered absent-mindedly if this had all been a convenient unconscious set-up, that deep down he wanted to remember, because every stray thought that passed through his mind could be connected in some way to her. The memory core in his pocket seemed to burn against him.

As always, it was a futile battle. If he concentrated hard enough, he could replay their first meeting nearly seamlessly...

_Obi-Wan sat at the counter with his drink before him. He ran his finger over the brim of his glass as he thought about Anakin. Always about Anakin. Too often he wondered if Qui-Gon had thought this often about him when he was a padawan. As always, he blocked out a majority of the unnecessary noise except what was immediately around him as if it were mere static over a comm channel. This had been a trick taught by his late master, a means of finding one's center even with such obnoxiously loud music pounding in one's ears._

_ For the most part, Obi-Wan never paid too much attention to the patrons inside of the club beyond superficial security assessments. So he didn't turn his head when a woman approached the counter, sat down, and practically yelled her order to the bartender over the music. He found it ironic, at the very least. _

_ "Why do I even come to these clubs," the woman beside him quietly said, presumably to herself._

_ It was too good of an opportunity to pass up to _not _make a joke. His concentration broke and the full noise of the club returned. _

_ "I myself have tried to figure that one out for quite some time," he said over the music. "If you happen to make any progress, you should publish your findings." He added a polite chuckle._

_ She turned her head quickly and looked directly at him with astonishment across her features. She looked like almost every other woman inside of the _Outlander Club:_ dressed for the occasion, hair pulled back, drink in hand. She looked tired, and as the surprise faded from her features, he decided disappointed in something as well._

_ "I'm sorry," she looked up with a flush on her cheeks, and he realized that he had just caught her staring at him. "What did you say?" _

_ He smiled sheepishly. "I was telling you why I come to these clubs."_

_ "Oh." She then took another gulp of her drink and then placed it on the counter. "I sometimes lose track of my sense of hearing in these clubs. The music is so loud. By the end of the evening my throat is swollen because I have yelled so much."_

_ Obi-Wan could relate to a degree. He wasn't fond of these establishments, and he wouldn't come if it weren't for his ability to focus his attention elsewhere._

_ "And yet we keep coming here. Or well, I am assuming that you actually do frequent these clubs, from your original statement."_

_ "Well, yes, I suppose I do−" She paused, to grab her drink again and stand up. "But most of the time I grab my drink and wait for a booth to open up." She pointed over his shoulder. "Do you mind? I would rather not have to deal with the discomfort of a sore throat tomorrow morning, I have work..."_

Obi-Wan thoughtfully smiled to himself. He hadn't exactly intended striking up a conversation, but with a sense of polite obligation, he had followed her and enjoyed speaking with her. At the time, Obi-Wan admitted to himself, he hadn't thought much of her beyond a temporary change in company when compared with Anakin. He knew then that she was fascinated and perhaps curious about him. Overall, as he looked back on the course of their relationship, he preferred their second outing at Dex's Diner because they had been able to speak more casually and comfortably, and he imagined that she preferred it as well in comparison to the _Outlander Club_. During his time away after immediately meeting her, Obi-Wan realized that he too had been intrigued by her, and in some ways had come to miss the small spark that made her different company than Anakin. They each had been drawn to one another, ultimately, though for different reasons. In some ways he didn't believe in fate or destiny, but he knew that the Force brought people together.

In fact, over the course of their relationship, it had taken so much longer for him to fully acknowledge his sentiments towards her, and beyond that, expressing them. He knew that her feelings ran deeper than admiration and respect despite her own attempts at suppressing and containing them. It had been so clear inside of the speeder port that evening, where water slid down the sides of their faces and his heart pounded harder than ever before. Part of him had believed that he needed to keep the relationship distanced, with a degree of detachment, while the other half didn't know what to do with her subtle admission of something stronger than friendship.

_ "All I wish to do is extend a small hand out to you, and perhaps you will take it sometime, if only for a moment... At least in that moment... you may feel stronger as a result. A brief, tenuous moment. Nothing lasts; but at least in that one moment it will always last."_

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face and let out a low groan. Her words rang too harshly true as he finished his drink. All he had were these moments. For everyone he loved all he had were fragments of the past; memories of Qui-Gon, of Anakin, and now of Claire. With all the hindsight in the galaxy he criticized himself for not being honest with her much sooner. He criticized himself for not seeing the signs of distress with Anakin. When he came back to her apartment the day after their meeting at Dex's Diner, asking for her help, he discovered his own admiration for her work, her knowledge, and her kindness. He had realized also that he loved and needed her, but despite all of his courage and bravery, Obi-Wan couldn't tell her. Instead, he gave mixed signals that weren't fair to her. In the end he was the coward who at least knew the texture and taste of her lips.

_ If I were a stronger man I would have told her before the war. _

In the end she knew, despite going from moment to moment to the next. He constantly waited for the next chance to see her, to see her smile, to hear her voice, to watch as her lips curled into a smile over one of his jokes that were as dry as Tatooine, to touch and hold and kiss her. He wanted that second chance to make something in the galaxy right.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the memory core to run his fingers over the only thing he had to physically remember Claire and her droid. Obi-Wan desperately hoped that she found someplace safe within the galaxy. Given all of her sacrifice on his behalf, she more than deserved happiness.

He thanked the stars when he heard the news that the sandstorm had passed; stewing on the past wouldn't fix the original problem at hand. It was safe to leave the indoors and return to the previous task at hand: finding a shop that could repair vaporator parts. Many people left the cantina at the same time as Obi-Wan to see that the sun was going down. He unhitched his eopie from the indoor stable and made his way back to the main street where shops began to open again. Everything had a thin layer of dust covering it. He returned to searching, this time on foot and pulling his herbivorous companion with him. A strong headache developed and prickled in the back of his head, and he thought that maybe the alcohol was stronger than he had expected.

Eventually Obi-Wan found a place that seemed promising and still open: _Deluska's Repair & Mechanical Emporium_.

* * *

><p>"So this here's the thrusters. These make the racer go fast." Claire then pointed towards the cooling mechanism with her wrench. "And this keeps it cool even when it gets very hot."<p>

Work was slow today because of the sandstorm. She had thought about closing for the afternoon as a whole, but she decided that in spite of the weather people still did their shopping and business if it was necessary. In the mean time, however, Claire sat cross-legged before a large podracer explaining its mechanics to her three-year old daughter, Nadia, who likely didn't understand a word she was saying in the grand scheme of things. It didn't matter if the girl didn't understand the context or finer details, it made Nadia happy regardless and that was all the mattered.

"When you're older I'll take you to a pod-racing event at the local track." She ruffled Nadia's short auburn hair as the girl turned her head and smiled brightly. "Who knows, maybe you'll take part in one someday."

"What 's that Mama?" She pointed to some of the multi-colored wiring inside of one of the podracer's engine branches.

"That connects the turbines that make electricity, which powers it."

Claire enjoyed explaining things to Nadia, who was always curious about her mother's work. Whenever she had the chance, she wanted to participate and help in some way. Claire obliged when there were things Nadia could do to help, such as holding bolts or screws. At the same time it gave the girl an opportunity to learn basic lessons about math. There wasn't a formal schooling system on Tatooine unlike Corellia or Coruscant, but it hadn't surprised Claire.

"Let me just tighten up a few of these bolts and then I'll make us something to eat, alright? You run along to the kitchen and I'll meet you there."

Nadia nodded eagerly and headed out of the workshop while her mother returned diligently to the task at hand: fixing, tuning up, and modifying a regular customer's custom podracer. Earlier in the day she had replaced the old thrusters with the latest in technology that had arrived fresh from the markets of Corellia through contracts under the late Widow Deluksa's name. The widow had passed down the shop to Claire before her passing; her chronic illness had progressed until it became terminal. Their friendship had been a miracle for Claire, who, without the generosity of Widow Deluska, would have been, _well_, Claire didn't exactly like to spend time wondering where she'd be. It was a healthy business and it was work that she loved, so it didn't make sense to think about the alternatives.

Once she finished, Claire wiped her brow and stood up from her kneeling position. She removed the goggles that rested on her forehead, then her gloves, and placed them both on the small nearby workstation that was cluttered with spare parts and unfinished projects. As she began to unzip the dirty, oil-stained navy blue work jumpsuit, she heard low voices in the front room of the shop, one of which was Nadia's higher one. Something didn't feel right, something prickled in the back of her head, and she abandoned getting out of the jumpsuit in order to go the front room. She didn't like Nadia talking to her customers for a variety of reasons, though primarily because many were the seedy, dangerous, reckless mercenary types who couldn't be trusted, especially around children, and she liked to keep business and her personal affairs separate−

"...Nadia? That's a pretty name." A pause. "Could you find the person who works here, Nadia? I need to speak with them."

"Mama's in the back−"

Claire walked into the front room of her shop and saw a man kneeling down in front of Nadia with his hood obscuring his face. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she rushed over.

"Nadia, what did I tell you about talking to strangers−" She stopped beside Nadia and gently pulled her away from the cloaked stranger, who in turn stood up and lowered his hood.

"I'm sorry, I realize it's quite late in the day, but she was here and I didn't wish to intrude by calling out−"

When Claire turned her attention toward the customer, she knew that both of their hearts had stopped.

"Claire?−"

"Obi-Wan?−"

Claire shivered as he said her name and felt a strange combination of emotions settle inside of her. She blinked several times, fearful that this was a dream and that she was really fast asleep at her desk in her workshop. Obi-Wan's gaze fell between Nadia, who stood beside her mother, and Claire; he stood stiffly speechless.

"S-stars, I ain't hallucinating, am I?" She whispered after finding her voice.

He stepped forward and tentatively touched her cheek. Her breath came in sharply as his fingertips caressed her. They each hesitated, as if neither could believe this was real.

"You're telling me. I only had _one_ drink." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair and his blue-grey eyes widened.

Claire choked out a half-laugh, half-sob as a smile spread across her face.

_Only Obi-Wan would make a joke like that._

As she realized this, she took his extended hand and kissed the pads of his fingers. He pulled Claire into his arms and embraced her tightly. His body shook as he breathed into her hair, buried his hand into the loose tangles, kissed her lips, and wet her jumpsuit with tears of relief and happiness. After losing so many of the Jedi Order, including some of his closest colleagues and his brother, Anakin, with the rise of the Empire and the Sith, he had her, he had _Claire_.

Despite having found her voice before, she could hardly speak when their lips parted. She held his head in her hands and could hardly keep herself together. She felt light-headed and dizzy in his arms. "It's really you. Stars, _it's really you_. You're here. You're alive, I-I had worried, I didn't know, I didn't hear from you, there were wanted signs everywhere−"

"It's... it's been a long road, hasn't it?"

"Too long."

"Too many bumps."

Claire groaned and shook her head as she nuzzled against Obi-Wan's neck. "No kidding."

She could feel him grinning against her and it was a full-body experience. It was overwhelming. She woke up this morning as if it were any other day, she couldn't believe it−Nadia suddenly tugged on her slightly opened jumpsuit and squeezed her leg, and Claire's stomach flipped. She pulled away from Obi-Wan and flushed brightly. She bit her lip and scratched her neck.

"I haven't formally introduced you to Nadia Elrin."

"Yes," Claire carefully observed Obi-Wan's reaction. She was overjoyed to see him offer a solemn half-hearted smile. "Your daughter."

Some of the light faded from his eyes, and Claire could almost sense it: disappointment, sadness, loneliness−

"You're kidding me," she said with a manic grin. "Please don't tell me you're that obtuse...Use that brilliant Jedi brain of yours."

He raised a brow and appeared hurt. He shrugged and frowned. "I don't follow."

"Obi-Wan, she's three years old." She paused in order to give him a chance to figure it out.

When he put the pieces together, when he understood what she was subtly implying, his eyes fell away from her to Nadia, who looked up at him with big blue eyes that matched his as she clutched to her mother. Nadia was completely unafraid of this man who was a stranger to her.

"I'm... You mean to say that _I'm_..._She's_−"

"Nadia is your daughter, Obi-Wan." She gently ruffled Nadia's hair, and as Obi-Wan knelt in front of his daughter, he mirrored the same gesture done to her mother: he cupped her cheek with his mouth slightly agape. "Nadia, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's the papa I've told you about."

"The good man?"

"Yes, the good man." Claire's chest tightened. "But do you remember the word I used, sweetheart?"

"'Hero.'"

He then brought the small girl, _his_ daughter, _his_ Nadia, into his arms.

* * *

><p>"I look like a mess," Claire said with a laugh as they followed Nadia into the back rooms after closing up the shop for the evening.<p>

"You look beautiful."

She flashed a smirk over her shoulder and let out a content sigh. "There's so much to ask. So much to say I have no idea where to start."

"I want to apologize for not being there for you."

Claire stopped walking and was about to interrupt him, to tell him that it was alright, but he beat her to it.

"I need to say it. I know it can't change any of it, can't bring back the years lost already, but it's not fair for you to have to have gone through that alone."

After hesitating, she nodded. "I'll fully admit it wasn't easy. The first few days after I found out were rough. Traveling to the Outer Rim was probably the worst part. There were Imperials all along the way. I was so scared that someone would recognize me either from the medcenter or the Senate Tower's hangar. I didn't feel safe until I met my late boss Widow Deluska I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her."

They made dinner together: Bantha steak and vegetables. After everything was finished and prepared, the three of them shared a meal. She was incredulous the entire time. It still seemed too surreal, too dream-like. Worse off, too good to be true. She hated how these unshakeable feelings tried to ruin the moment of having a meal as a family for the first time. Their conversation focused solely on the present; the discussion about the past would have to wait until after Nadia fell asleep. Or that was how Claire wanted things to go.

"Papa, why haven't you been here with my mama? She's missed you lots."

Claire nearly choked on her lukewarm water. She coughed and was about to start profusely apologizing, but he frowned and tried to explain for the young girl.

"I should have been here for you both. But I was away trying to help protect others. The very last people of my order."

"Being a hero." Nadia frowned and picked at her food for the rest of the meal. "She spoke lots about you all the days."

Claire sighed and stopped eating. She didn't want him feeling any more guilty than he likely already felt. "So it's a broken vaporator?"

Obi-Wan's attention moved to Claire, but only momentarily.

"How come you never came and found mama and me?"

"I...I didn't know where to look." He looked ashamed and tired.

"_Nadia_," Claire stood from her seat to kneel beside her daughter. "If your father had known we were here he would have moved the very stars, all those pretty, colorful nebulas to find us, if he had the ability. Sometimes people..." she trailed off as she pushed strands of auburn hair out of the girl's soft, round face.

Deep down Claire couldn't believe that Obi-Wan had lived on Tatooine. Part of her found that fact to be a cruel miracle: something had brought her to the right planet but that something hadn't been strong enough to bring them immediately together. In the end she thought it coincidence and luck, because what higher power would bring two people to the same place but cruelly keep them apart?

"Sometimes families get separated." She paused again and flashed her eyes toward Obi-Wan. "But they always find a way back to each other. Families endure. And we're a family now."

As Claire returned to her seat, she mouthed the word 'sorry' to Obi-Wan and his eyes widened slightly. He shook his head.

"Claire you have nothing you need to apologize for."

She smiled half-heartedly as she changed the subject. "So the vaporator?"

"It... it snapped due to excess water pressure."She was relieved to see him drop the topic. "I didn't have it set up right." He shrugged. "Still getting used to everything."

"Well everything can be fixed if you put your heart into it." She winked to Nadia and offered Obi-Wan a sympathetic smile. "I've had to learn how to fix them, because customers constantly come in here asking for new parts and whatnot. Most of the farmers know how to fix 'em themselves. But they constantly break, so tomorrow after I send off this podracer I just finished I'll stop by and fix it up. It's a good thing you came to me, by the way. Most other mechanic folk on this rock aren't too trustworthy or reliable, let alone cheap."

Nadia sweetly chirped, "Mama's the best on all of Tatooine!"

* * *

><p>It had been a lot to take in for one day for both Claire and Nadia. Claire had always imagined Obi-Wan to be a good father, just as he had been a good master to Anakin despite whatever doubts he held. Nadia wanted to hear a story from Obi-Wan this time.<p>

"I want a real story." Nadia's head poked out from underneath her creamy sheets. "No engin-neering or hyper-coaxial-ion-thrusters-thinga-ma-jiggies."

Obi-Wan, who sat at her bedside, turned his head and raised an amused brow. Nadia appeared quite proud for pronouncing the words correctly.

"Oh, uhm," Claire gestured off-handedly, "sometimes I read from the latest issue of Mechanics Monthly. Not many books sold around here, let alone ones for children. Sometimes she likes hearing about the parts and whatnot. Sometimes I tell a story and she likes to hear it, sometimes she wants a different one."

"I want a good story, Papa."

"Did your mother ever tell you about how she helped me save a princess?"

Nadia's eyes lit up and she shook her head. "No! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Well there's some knowledge about machinery involved..."

Claire laid down beside her daughter and brushed her fingers over the girl's forehead, pushing loose strands of hair away absent-mindedly. She wanted to hear his take on the story as much as Nadia.

"There once was a princess who was protected by two knights. One evening, a monster who could change its face tried to hurt the princess..."

As Claire listened to the story, she could see just how easily he slipped into the fatherly role and how much he enjoyed it. She smiled and found herself growing sleepy with her head feeling heavy with every passing moment, even though she wanted to hear the story. Eventually, she fell asleep faster before Nadia.

* * *

><p>Nadia's room was adorned in decorations clearly made by her mother: from strung up lights to figurines welded from metal to posters of her own drawings made on partly used blue and white schematic sheets. When he was almost finished telling the story about Claire's help in protecting Princess (Senator) Amidala, Obi-Wan saw that they both were sleeping. Claire, still dressed in her dirty work clothes, looked peaceful as she rested. He leaned forward and placed a kiss upon Nadia's forehead and then stood from the bed and walked to the other side. He watched Claire sleep for a few moments and then lifted her limp form into his arms.<p>

It wasn't difficult finding Claire's bedroom, because the decorations blatantly appeared to be another workspace with a small bed pushed into the corner. He admired her quarters because it was her home. Out of all the many things he had hoped for Claire, her finding and making a new home for herself had been one of them. In the far-most corner he saw DA-R1 sitting inactive.

"Admiring the furniture, Obi-Wan?"

He looked down and saw her smirking.

"I like what you've done with the place." He moved further into the room and placed her gently on her bed. He sat beside her. "It's very much _you_."

"A little disorganized and heavily metallic?"

"I have the memory core." He dug into his pocket and pulled out the shiny metallic chip, offering it to Claire.

"We'll activate her in the morning. Nadia'll want to see it. She'll love Dari, which is good, because she needs another friend besides me."

"Does she like mechanical things?"

"She loves everything." Claire reached up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "She especially loves new things. You know how kids are. Curious about the whole world."

"Perhaps if she needs another friend, an organic one at that, I have someone in mind." He paused as Claire stood up to light a candle. The room illuminated partly, with a hazy orange glow. She then returned to sit by the side of his bed. Claire took his hands in order to remove the gloves. Suddenly she needed to feel their callous edges, needed to have them on her-

"He's a three-year old boy named Luke Skywalker."

Claire blinked. "You mean Anakin...?"

He sighed mournfully. "I hadn't seen it, Claire. I didn't know that Anakin had been in love with someone. He was my _brother_ and I hadn't seen the signs−and I

should have, given how very much in love I was with you. I should have seen that he had found similar happiness."

Shivers prickled at her neck and her stomach flipped. "The mother?"

"Padme. Padme Amidala."

"Stars, I _knew_ something was there! You're telling me! When he talked about her it seemed so explicitly obvious, but I just, I didn't know..." She ran a hand through her hair and squeezed his hand. "So then you did it, you helped Anakin? He's on Tatooine then−"

"No," his voice fell to a whisper. "I was too late. He's gone."

Her chest clenched because he had just admitted to the worst, most painful possibility he had feared: losing his brother completely.

"They had twins. A girl and a boy. Another senator took the girl to Alderaan, where she will be raised as an Organa. I brought Luke here to be with Anakin's relatives. No one will come looking on Tatooine. It's the last place anyone will ever look."

Claire frowned, wrapped her arm around him, and turned his frame so that they faced one another.

"You did everything you could and more." As Claire leaned forward, she whispered, "There's nothing we can do about the past. There's only the present, which is you and me, and the future, which is the three of us," she laughed and shrugged half-heartedly, "and four if you count Dari."

"You're staying for good, right? Because I swear Obi-Wan Kenobi if you tell me you're leaving for Kamino in the morning..." she closed the gap between them by placing a slow, lazy kiss upon his lips. When she pulled away, teasing him by pulling at his lower lip, she added, "Because I've got the necessary equipment to keep you tied to my bed."

Obi-Wan laughed and let himself fall back against her bed. "Farthest I'll be is the Dune Sea."

As Claire stalked over his body, she shook her head. "I don't know Obi-Wan, that's still _mighty_ far..."

She allowed some of her weight to rest upon him and they shared long, tender kisses as his hands ran up her clothed back to burrow into her long hair. He kissed her as if he'd never have the chance again, like a parched man greedily drinking from a well. His name fell from her lips several times in quiet, desperate pants. When even her loosely fitted coveralls began to feel tight and bothersome, she sat up and began to unzip it until he stopped her. Obi-Wan sat up and pushed aside her hands, wanting instead to be the one to undress her. As the zipper fell lower and lower he saw that she was dressed lightly beneath the coveralls, and he presumed that it was because of the heat. Once her grey breast binder was additionally removed, he kissed her smooth collarbone and the top of each breast, with his beard tickling her and causing her to let out low giggles.

Soon enough the zipper was all the way down at its end, and Claire slipped away from him in order to step out of it completely. She grinned and blew out the candle, and only the small amount of light from Tatooine's three moons peered inside, illuminating everything inside of her room with a soft glow. Moments later they were finally together, skin upon skin, hands and legs intertwined together and it almost felt like everything was right in the galaxy again. This was where they belonged, _together_, and for the first time in their relationship, Claire didn't have to fear the next morning or the days to follow, didn't have to wait in uncertainty, because this was it, this was really it, he wouldn't ever leave her again. Even with the pain of exile, of loss, of sacrifice, they could find their slab of peace after looking for so long.

"Never let me go."

Obi-Wan's face was so close to her and their breaths mingled. His fingers trailed over her lips, leisurely plotting a course across her skin until they fell to her the slope of her shoulder, where her hair shined. His hair was sticking up somewhat as a result of her hands furiously running through it. He saw stars in her wide eyes, and he could feel her through something transcendental, something surreal and beyond the corporeal, something more powerful than anything else in the galaxy, and it was soft, warm. Claire knew what it was, and now she understood what Widow Deluska had spoken of: that her faith in Obi-Wan was well placed as it always was. He found her, he was finally home.

Neither Claire or Obi-Wan needed to go on alone ever again.


End file.
